Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel
by StarryGazer
Summary: Sequel to “The Master Plan.” Slash. Now that Harry’s relationship with Severus is out in the open, they have more problems than they can shake a…wand at.
1. Default Chapter

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: None, yet. I would greatly appreciate any offers, although I need someone with a sharp eye and _excellent _grammar and spelling. A strong vocabulary is good, too.  
**NOTES**: I said I'd do it. It just took me awhile to get around to it. This is going to be done in spurts, when I have the time, and I'm not sure where it will take us, exactly.  
**SUMMARY**: Sequel to "The Master Plan." Slash. Now that Harry's relationship with Severus is out in the open, they have more problems than they can shake a…wand at. Voldemort is still after Harry, Lucius has plans of his own, and Lupin is more disapproving than Harry ever expected—and Harry's immaturity doesn't help matters.

**Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel**

Harry pawed through his pile of clothes, trying to decide what to wear, and what to pack. Every time he came across something he was _sure _he didn't want to wear, he threw it into his trunk with a seething anger that seeing his belongings being packed away for another trip 'home' didn't assuage one little bit. When he finally had everything put away, and had wriggled into the bright teal dress shirt Seamus had given him, he slammed the lid of his trunk down, muttering furiously under his breath.

He was being sent away. Abandoned. Banished. Rejected. It didn't _have _to happen this way; he could have stayed here, at Hogwarts, with his…lover? Boyfriend? He nearly snorted with laughter at that, but laughter would have ruined the tone of ire and betrayal he was setting, so he settled for snorting with bitter self-mockery. Yes, that was acceptable.

_Ruddy stupid Severus, _he fumed in his head as he trotted down the stairs to breakfast. _Bloody manipulative Headmaster. They're all just trying to run my life. And WORST of all is that blasted—idiot—WEREWOLF. How could Remus DO this to me? He's so damn stubborn and so damn bossy and so damn **logical**, and why can't he just see my side for once? _

Harry walked towards the great hall to see Severus pacing before the doors, that characteristic line of worry between his eyebrows. He halted suddenly when he spotted Harry. "Mister Potter," he began, standing while other students filed past him, trying to give the man a wide berth.

At this, Harry shot him a venomous look, ducked his head, and stomped past.

"Harry…" the man called softly, sounding on the verge of exasperation.

Harry ignored him completely. He dropped into a seat beside Hermione, who was holding hands with Ron across the table. "Oh, stop with your sticky-sweet _devotion_, would you?" he grumbled. "You're making me ill."

"Harry," Hermione started in with a lecturing tone.

Ron beat her to the punch. "Listen, just because your sugar-daddy won't let you spend the summer in his lap doesn't mean you have to take it out on the rest of us." Harry gave him his patented green-laser-beam-glare, but Ron merely smirked. "Stop moping about it. It's pathetic, even for you." He ducked the bit of sausage Harry flicked at him, his smile widening. "Aw, is ickle Harry going to miss his shmoopy-woobie this summer? Is he afwaid big, bad Snape is going to find someone to else to ease the pangs of loneliness in his heart? That he'll find some strapping foreign stud this summer and spend hours on end getting it on without even thinking about his poor ickle Harry?"

Just as Harry was about to lunge over the table and strangle Ron, a cold voice spoke up.

"Oh, undoubtedly, Mister Weasley. Because I haven't anything better to do than get horizontal with a complete stranger, and because it's in my nature to do so, is it not? And I encounter amorous advances from foreigners wherever I go, as well. Really, Weasley, don't you think he's behaving obnoxiously enough _without _baiting?" Snape's annoyed gaze caused Ron to shift and shrug uncomfortably. "Mister Potter, the Headmaster wishes to speak with you when you finish with your meal."

Harry scowled at his plate, then pushed it away. "I'm not hungry, so I might as well do it now," he muttered, getting up and following Snape reluctantly. "And you can be rational at me all you want, but it's not going to make any difference," he grumbled at the Potions Master's back as they headed up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office.

"When did it ever?" Snape retorted, throwing Harry a vaguely amused look over his shoulder. "I've long since given up trying to get you to see sense. I think I'd do far better if I were allowed to simply bend you over and give you fifty lashes, but as we can't have _that…_"

Harry groaned, a sound of resentment mixed with sexual frustration. "You did it that _one _time," he couldn't resist pointing out. "And you're right; that might be _just _the thing to make me shape up."

Snape whirled, robes fluttering. His face was extremely stern as he faced the boy. "I thought we'd agreed never to approach that subject again, upon pain of death," he growled.

"I don't remember the 'pain of death' bit, but everything else seems right," Harry rejoined, casually leaning against the wall.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and the Headmaster peered down at them. "Ah, Harry! And Severus; I thought I heard the two of you bickering. It's very distinctive, you know."

"Thank you, Headmaster. We do work at it," Severus returned, moving fluidly up the steps.

Harry made a face at his back, stomping up behind the man. "I just want you both to know," he announced when they entered the room, "That I'm not all right with this. I know you think it's for the best, and that I'll be safer, and what you say goes, and what I want doesn't even matter, but I think it stinks."

Severus gave Harry that _look _he reserved for special occasions; the one that reprimanded him for immature behaviour without saying a word, the one that threatened to withhold physical pleasure unless Harry shaped up.

Harry gave Severus his own special glare; the one that sulked in fine adolescent fashion, and told the man _Bugger you, you sadistic wanker. I'm not getting laid anyway. I'll throw as many fits as I damn well please._

The Headmaster cleared his throat, interrupting their silent duel of malicious grimacing. "I understand your feelings, Harry, but I'm afraid this must be done. I cannot guarantee that Hogwarts will be safe this summer; the members of the Order will be scattered, fulfilling various duties, and even I will not be here very often. With Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy on the loose, it is imperative that you are as secure as possible."

Harry bit his lip. "But what about _him?_" he finally burst out, gesturing wildly to Severus. "If everyone is gone, how will _he _be safe? You expect me to sit back and cool my heels like a good boy while God knows _what_ is happening to him?"

At this, Dumbledore gave Harry a kind smile. "Severus is a fully-trained wizard, with many tricks up his sleeve, and—"

"Yeah, and _that's _what he told me right before he got kidnapped. He may be smart, but he's not invincible."

"I will be cautious, I promise you," Severus informed Harry, his voice dry. "I will not stay in any one place for long this summer, and I have my own duties to fulfil."

Harry turned to him suspiciously. "What duties? Now that they've found you're a spy, what are you going to do? Make potions for Pomfrey? Do research?" He was intensely curious, as Severus had not deigned to answer any of his myriad questions before, no matter how often Harry brought it up.

Severus' eyes slid away, avoiding him. "A little of everything," he said evasively.

"Not good enough," Harry told him stubbornly. "I _care _about you, damn it, and I don't want to see you piss your life away by getting involved with dangerous stuff again."

Snape raised his eyebrows incredulously. "I rather think you've stolen my line, you incorrigible wretch," he said. "_You're _the one constantly going and defying death on a regular basis. I only get involved when I have to come after you."

"That's not how it happened last time," Harry shot back.

"Gentlemen, if we may return to the subject at hand," Dumbledore interrupted. "Harry, you will be returning to the Dursleys'. I know you are unhappy with the situation, and I apologize. You will be protected, though, and that is what's most important. For now, Severus is safe as well, and I will do all in my power to keep him that way. If the circumstances change, the plan will be adapted accordingly."

Harry's jaw was set. "Fine," he spat. "Can I go and finish getting ready now? I have friends to say goodbye to." He turned his back on them both, fuming, shoulders hunched.

"Why don't I give the two of you a minute to say your own farewells?" Dumbledore asked, slipping out.

"Don't bother," Harry began, but the man was already gone.

"Harry," Severus said with a large sigh. "Stop being so perversely difficult. You know that I…have some…_affection _for youor whatever passes for affection in my shrivelled, blackened little heart, but I cannot allow you to remain at Hogwarts. For one thing, I haven't the power—or the authority. For another, it would jeopardise you, and I have sworn not to do that."

"So you—you _exile _me back to the Dursleys' for the whole summer? You know, a Dementor almost got Dudley and me a couple of years ago, just down the street from the house. It's not really all that safe."

"It's safer than you imagine. And really, Harry, I do have some appreciation of how little you like your family, but their company is still better than being cut into pieces and impaled on spikes round Voldemort's throne, is it not?"

"That's what you think," Harry muttered, but there wasn't any real heat in it.

Severus came to stand behind the boy, wrapping his arms around him rather hesitantly. "I shall write, if I am able," he said solemnly, resting his chin on the scruffy head of hair.

After a tense moment or two, Harry relaxed back against the man. "You can't give a _bit, _can you?" the student asked bitterly, and Snape sighed again. "And they call _me _stubborn!"

"It's not my decision," Snape said gruffly. "It's out of my hands." He pressed a quick kiss to Harry's head, and the youth turned and pulled away, looking up at him with soulful eyes.

"Could I at least get a goodbye shag?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely _not_," Snape grated, annoyed. "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"

"Well, yeah; death, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ron and Hermione, and fashion," Harry responded. "Usually in that order. Oh, and there's you, too. But that either goes in with sex or death, I'm not sure which."

"Very amusing."

Harry's eyebrows drew together, and Severus could see the little black thundercloud forming over the youth's head once more. "Why did we agree to this?" Harry suddenly burst out. "No sex? _No sex? _What the hell business is it of Remus' whether or not we have sex?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, we have had this discussion _countless _times, and—"

"And you've _yet _to answer me to my satisfaction! Why, damn it? Don't you want it? Don't you want _me?_" He leaned into Severus, desperation oozing from every pore.

"Stop _doing _that, you wilful young whelp. We are doing this because Lupin demanded it. Do you need reminding? You agreed to it as well, you know."

Harry looked even more cross at this. "Only because he said he'd have you fired if I didn't. And Dumbledore—and Dumbledore _agreed!_" he ranted, and went on to rave for a good ten minutes about the unfairness of the man suddenly taking Lupin's side after all those months of supporting Harry's and Severus' burgeoning relationship.

Severus watched the boy pace, hands clasped behind his back or making the occasional stabbing gesture for emphasis. "The Headmaster knew that I would not instigate a sexual relationship with you before you had graduated. That is the only reason he allowed us to see one another. And as for Lupin—"

"Lupin can bloody well go jump in the lake and make out with the squid. Why the _hell _are you, of all people, agreeing with Remus?" Harry whirled to face Severus, his face full of indignation.

"It is not a matter of _agreeing _with him; it is a matter of honour. I told him that I would not do this thing. I am a man of my word. Have we not had this discussion often enough over the course of the last month? I am heartily sick of hearing about it. I will not lay hands on you at this time. End of conversation."

Harry's lips thinned. "I really hate it when you do that." Severus didn't answer so he continued. "Shut me down. Treat me like I'm a child that you can order around. I _really hate that, _Severus."

"Harry?" Dumbledore stepped back into the room. "Everyone is getting ready to leave."

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, as if searching for something. "All right," he finally said quietly. The Headmaster turned to leave, and Harry followed, stepping around Severus.

Snape took a hold of Harry's sleeve as he passed, and the youth jerked it away and kept moving. Severus followed, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and forcibly turning him to face him. "Harry. I'm sorry. I will worry about you, as well, you know." Harry was silent, face averted, his expression closed. "I'll send you an owl as soon as I'm able." The man leaned forward, just managing to brush his lips to the side of Harry's face before the young man turned his head, shoving Severus away and marching angrily towards the stairs.

Heaving a great, long-suffering sigh, Snape slowly followed the boy down the steps. When he reached the ground floor, he ran into Lupin, who was waiting to accompany Harry and his friends on the train, and keep an eye out during their journey.

"How are you today, Severus?" the werewolf inquired with forced politeness. He had never managed to accept the fact that the Potions Master had developed an interest in his ward. They succeeded in treating each other civilly, but just barely. It was an uneasy peace, at best.

"I'd be far better if that petulant brat stopped throwing fits every time I turned around," Severus admitted tiredly. "However, I can't see what to do about it."

"The answer to _that _particular problem is simple," Remus told him in a cool voice.

"Yes?" Snape responded warily.

"Find someone your own age," the werewolf advised him. He turned to leave.

Snape sighed again. No shoulder to lean on, there. He stared at the front doors, where the students were streaming out into the summer. Soon the castle would be almost deserted. No shoulder to lean on, anywhere.

Harry sulked on the train. He planned to sulk in the car on the way home. And once he got there, he fully intended to sulk the whole summer through, without one moment of unalleviated teenaged angst. He was a moping machine. No one could make him feel better. He would not be cheered. This, he vowed.

Of course, this irked Ron and Hermione, who told him in no uncertain terms that he was acting like a twelve-year-old girl, and that he ought to stop his whining and woe-is-me-ing, but he couldn't be buggered to care. Lupin also spent part of the ride with him, explaining gently why Harry was, in fact, a selfish little brat. He didn't come right out and _say _that, of course; he just tried to demonstrate that Harry had people that cared about him, and pointed out that they all had a lot to be grateful for, but Harry remained unmoved. In his eyes, this was all partially Remus' fault.

He couldn't help feeling that Severus would never have sent them away if they'd been sleeping together. That was part of an adult relationship, wasn't it? And so long as it wasn't happening, Severus wouldn't be able to take Harry completely seriously. He might even get tired of waiting and find someone else. A small part of Harry—the last vestiges of the _truly _immature monster he'd been a couple of years ago—wanted to guffaw at that, but mostly he knew better. After all, _he _found Severus attractive, so what was stopping others from feeling the same way?

Snape was sexy; that's all there was to it. There were so many little things he did that got Harry hot that it was nearly impossible to list them all; the long stride, the black glare of destruction, the smirk, the thing with the eyebrow…not to mention the verbose speech and voice that caused Harry to tremble absolutely everywhere. He was _damned _sexy, and Harry was just lucky no one else had cottoned onto that yet.

But now someone very well might.

Now Harry and Severus would be apart for the whole summer, and Severus would be travelling extensively, with every opportunity to meet new people. Severus wouldn't even be in the country for some of the time; he'd be gliding through throngs of exotic young men who spoke provocative foreign languages and probably didn't wear pants under their robes. How on earth could Harry Potter, three feet tall, (well, currently feeling three feet tall) with messy hair and dorky glasses, possibly compete?

And so Remus lectured, and Ron and Hermione glared and tutted, and Harry turned his head to the window, as the countryside rolled past unseen, and worried.


	2. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Snarky

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Two  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**SUMMARY**: Sequel to "The Master Plan." Slash. Harry misses Severus terribly, and writes to tell him so. So begins their correspondence. After a few months apart, Harry is certain the Potions Master must have found someone else, and cooks up a scheme to keep the man's interest focused completely on him.

**Chapter Two: ****Absence Makes the Heart Grow Snarky **

_Dear…, _Harry wrote, then paused at length to chew on his quill. This was hard. This was _really hard. _In its own way, writing to Snape was more difficult than saving the Sorcerer's Stone. He figured it probably had to do with the fact that it was so complicated, and he did so much better in situations that were straightforward. Brave Escape or Imminent Death? One helping of Brave Escape, please. Fight Voldemort or Watch the Wizarding World Fall Under His Heel? Well, that was simple; Fight Voldemort, every time.

Snape, though, Snape was complicated. Harry's feelings for Snape were pretty complicated, too. And the act of putting them down on paper—not something he'd had a great deal of luck with in the past—was sheer hell. He couldn't begin to think of what to write. He was used to hiding his thoughts and feelings, but he wanted very badly to be honest with Severus. Unfortunately, honesty would induce a letter that probably read something like;

_Dear Bastard,_

_How dare you dump me on my relatives for the summer like I'm nothing to you! Why do I even bother talking to you when you won't tell me what's going on? I hope you're having a good time out in Whoresville, you two-timing son of a bitch. Are you with some other guy? You are, aren't you? I bet there are blokes all over you right now. I know that sounds stupid and I'm being paranoid and jealous, and if you don't catalogue every last person you've spoken to in the last week, along with names, ages, and pictures, I'm going to find them and kick their arses. I guess it makes sense that you don't want to be around me, considering you won't speak to me, trust me, or shag me. And why haven't you written? It's been a week! Please, please, please come get me. I'm lonely and angry and I miss you._

Yeah, that'd be just perfect; a nice blend of snotty self-righteousness and pathetic self-pity was sure to make Snape coming running with open arms.But he had to write _something_, or Snape was going to forget him. Maybe he'd even find someone else. And as annoyed as Harry was, he wasn't about to let that happen. Sighing, he put quill to paper and tried to think of something intelligent to say.

OoOoOoO

Severus swirled his drink around in his glass, eyeing it suspiciously before deigning to take a sip. He didn't trust these foreign buggers to know how to make a decent martini. On some level he was aware, of course, that he was mentally giving the French bartender who'd served him something of a mortal insult, but he found it difficult to care. It wasn't as if the man would ever know. Snape unfolded the parchment in front of him and began to read.

_Dear Severus,_

_How are you? I suppose it would be futile to ask 'where are you,' so I'll not bother. _

Severus rolled his eyes. Still sulking, then. Irritating little prat that he was.

_Are you meeting many interesting new people?_

_Oh, **scads, **_Severus thought to himself. The man snorted, thinking balefully of Jacques, who thought he was the be-all end-all of gay men in the universe, and sat across from Severus at dinner in order to bore him with tales of his strength and prowess in bed. In reality, Severus viewed him as an overweight, narcissistic moron with questionable loyalties and dubious contacts. Which was why Severus kept him close at hand. Jacques, of course, thought Severus adored him.

_I hope everything is well._

_Dear Merlin, must he be so banal? _Snape wondered, briefly shaking his head. _To go by this letter, one would imagine he had all the conversational abilities of a mentally deficient sporting dog. _Snape had a sudden, bizarre image of Harry, trotting circles around him and only comprehending a few words, like, 'walkies,' and 'biscuits,' and being ravenous for attention. After contemplating it for a few moments, the man had to admit the picture was nearly spot-on. If one replaced 'walkies' and 'biscuits' with 'sex' and 'information Harry isn't privy to,' they did, in fact, add up to just about all Potter wanted. Plus the boy loved a good rubdown more than just about anything. Blinking a bit and coming back to reality, Snape went back to the letter.

_Everything is well here, except that I'm bored and I miss you, but you already know that, I'm sure. I wish you were here, or rather that I were there, and that we could enjoy ourselves. _

Snape smiled. In Potterspeak, that likely translated into: _I've nothing to do and I'm randy, and why won't you fulfil my every adolescent sexual fantasy?_

_I'm looking forward to being released on parole and visiting the Weasleys for my birthday. I hope to see you there. _

_Take care,_

_Harry_

Snape gave a sigh and re-folded the paper, tapping it with his wand to make it more difficult for others to read. He really ought to burn it; the admission that Harry would be at the Weasleys could all too easily be used against him, and they'd had more than enough of their share of documents falling into the wrong hands. Still, he missed the boy wretchedly, and wasn't about to rid himself of this small reminder of the fact that the boy missed him, as well.

Glancing around the nearly empty restaurant cautiously, he brandished his own quill and scratched a note in response.

_Dear Potter,_

_No, I'm **not **going to tell you where I am or what I'm doing. Stop fishing for information. I've met many 'interesting people,' and I loathe them all. I wish nothing more than to be back in my dungeons working on my myriad projects, and safe from the rampant stupidity of the general populace. Everything here is as annoying and pointless as I expected; that's life in general, I suppose. I do hope you are keeping up with your schoolwork. Don't expect me waive your summer homework just because we have a recreational relationship. If your relatives are bothersome, then delving into your course books would be an ideal way of avoiding them, wouldn't it? I suggest you make an effort. _

_I oughtn't be contacted again, as I'm supposed to be in hiding, so stop writing to me, you thoughtless brat. I'll write you whenever I can, and that will just have to be enough. And before you start snivelling about it, be assured that I realize it's not enough—for either of us—but there's little I can do at the moment. And do you realize you're irritating me by being absent from my life equally as much as my absence irritates you? It seems as though there's no way of finding alleviation from you; you're a nuisance when you are with me, and a distraction when you are not. I find this highly vexing, you know. _

_Stay out of trouble. And for God's sake, stop mentioning dates and places when you write to people. Do you have any idea how much trouble you're inviting? Idiot. And yes, I will be there if I can. _

_Yours and other sentimental nonsense,_

_Severus_

Severus paid for his drink and went to find an untraceable owl. He'd be as careful as possible, and put as many anti-spying charms on the letter as he could think of, but there was always a chance it would fall into the wrong hands.

Watching his letter carried up and away on silent, snowy wings, Severus gave a great sigh. Next he'd be off to Egypt to lie low for a couple of weeks with the eldest Weasley brat. And for some unfathomable reason, Harry seemed to think Severus would be _enjoying _this. The man straightened his robes and strode away, resisting the urge to pause and bang his head against the side of the nearest building.

No matter how he looked at it, it was going to be a longsummer.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry received his fourth letter from Severus about a week before his birthday, and scowled at it ferociously before setting it on the windowsill unopened. He paced back and forth, glancing at it occasionally. He _did _want to know what the man had written, but then again he _didn't_. So far Severus had been nothing more than his sarcastic, misanthropic self in any of the letters and Harry wanted…_more. _

Part of the problem, he felt, was that when he was actually _with _Severus, it didn't matter so much when he said such things, because Harry also got the visual cues that suggested the man didn't really mean it. Severus would say something terrible, but then his eyes would slip sideways towards Harry, laughing just a little, or he'd demand to know why Harry was the way he was, but his eyebrow would crook upwards, as if to say he really didn't mind, or he'd call Harry some wretched name, but his voice would be warm with fondness. Harry _really _missed that.

Sighing, he finally walked over and opened the letter. He paused to hold it under his nose, inhaling deeply. It didn't smell as much of Severus as he would have liked—it lacked that mustiness, that damp dungeon smell—but there was still a hint of something that reminded him of the man. He thought it over. Maybe sandalwood? That wasn't even something they used in potions, so it was probably ridiculous to think the Potions Master smelled of that. Still, Harry thought it _was _something vaguely like that—something woody and tangy and hot.

There were other scents on _this _letter, though—the smell of rain, of salty humidity, of a blast of hot, moist air rushing against your face when you opened the door to go outside in the morning. Harry sighed. Severus probably didn't even realize he was capturing such things when he magically sealed the letters, and Harry didn't intend to tell him. They were the only clues as to where the man was, and Harry clung to them like a lifeline. He pulled the letter out and smoothed it down, eyes hungrily absorbing that sharp script.

_Dear Potter,_

_This has been the summer from hell, and the sooner it is over, the better. I can hardly believe that I'm actually looking forward to returning to Hogwarts and dealing with you subnormal delinquents again. Well, except for Longbottom, perhaps. It would take a great deal more pain and horror than I've experienced in order to make me look forward to Longbottom's company._

_Giving Albus that letter was exceedingly foolish. I **know **you miss me; you needn't reiterate it, nor should you take such risks as to give your greatly overworked Headmaster petulant letters about it, to pass on to your poor, greatly suffering Potions Master. Your puerile behaviour is frankly astounding. You **know **better, Harry. That letter could have been intercepted. That letter could have drawn attention to Dumbledore, and therefore to me. Is that really what you want?_

_At any rate, since the chances were high that it would have attracted notice, I was forced to leave that particular hideout. I shall expect an apology for that when next we see each other. I have moved, thus far, a total of eight times this summer, and am becoming quite exasperated with travel. I have encountered nothing but rude servants, sand, mud, insects and various other flora and fauna in my belongings, and blisters on my feet. A simple potion would take care of that matter, but I haven't the equipment to make it, as half of my luggage was mistakenly Floo'd to Bangladesh during the last move. _

_I **really **despise the world right now. I particularly wish I could see less of it._

_You are aware when I will next be able to visit with you, and I must say that I'm looking forward to it, if only to wring your lovely neck. I blame you for **all **of this. Don't try to be reasonable about it. We both know that it's somehow your fault. Everything is, as always, your fault. _

_Worst of all, of course, is the fact that you're not here to torment in return. You'll be delighted to know that I intend to make up for it all next term. Be prepared for your most arduous Potions class yet, Potter. And God **help **you if you fail. _

_Still perplexingly yours,_

_Severus_

_P.S. You **will **make this up to me. _

Harry smiled a bit, then shook his head. Severus blamed _him _for this? It was Severus' own fault; he shouldn't have damn well left Harry alone in the first place! If they were keeping the Potions Master safe by shuttling him all over the world, then surely Harry would have been safe, as well. He ought to have been allowed to go with him, and that was that.

Falling back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Harry sighed, frowning. Somewhere sweltering and rainy and probably near an ocean. He got up and went over to Dudley's old map of the world, which he'd tacked on one wall, and glanced it over. There were thousands of places like that, he eventually decided. Severus could be secreted away in some cavernous jungle in the Congo, or living it up on the beach in Rio de Janeiro. The second wasn't _likely_, especially since the man complained about every little thing around him, but Harry was intimately familiar with how Severus liked to criticize and whine when he particularly liked something.

_Just one more week, _he told himself, flopping back down on the bed again and trying not to think of surfers and beachgoers and tanned, half-naked men running all around the Potions Master. Of course, he'd only be able to see Severus for the day, and then the man would be swept out of his arms again, back to the life of a fugitive from evil. Harry would have to make the most of that one day, that one _chance. _

He looked down at himself, at the huge jeans that would fall right off if he hadn't punched several extra holes in Dudley's old belt, at the massive t-shirt whose sleeves fell to his elbows. He certainly wasn't going to impress anyone like _this. _At the same time, he wasn't going to be allowed out of the house to go shopping. He could contact one of the Order members, but doubted they'd go along with his cries of 'Fashion Emergency.'

Suddenly, Harry had an idea. He jumped off the bed and hurried to get his quill and paper. There weren't many people he could count on in a situation like this—there weren't even many who were up to dealing with it. Luckily, Harry knew someone that was clever enough to get him everything he needed. Plopping down in front of Dudley's old desk, (the one he'd scratched his initials and dirty words all over) Harry scrawled out a letter to Hermione.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus arrived at the Weasleys with something like dread heavy in his stomach. This was, quite possibly, one of the hardest things he'd ever have to do. It was one thing to face the Dark Lord in all his chilling psychosis, but it was quite another to face Molly Weasley, especially when she felt that one of her progeny was facing some threat. Severus remembered vividly the woman coming to speak with him after he'd suspended Charley from Quidditch for a game due to the boy's lacklustre Potions grade. Certainly, it did not hurt the head of Slytherin that Gryffindor was playing his House, except that in the end, after an hour of Molly lecturing him about not giving her children the chance to be successful adults, it really _had _rather hurt him. Or at least annoyed him.

Severus was also aware that Molly had thrown herself into the role of Potter's defender and substitute mother with a fearsome enthusiasm. With some trepidation, he knocked on the front door.

The woman herself answered, of course. Severus' ill luck would allow nothing less. He swallowed. "Mrs. Weasley," he greeted her, giving just a slight nod of his head.

She was thin-lipped and drawn up to her full height. "Severus," she replied, her voice shrill with disapproval. "I am going to let you in this house because Albus requested it of me, but don't think for one moment that I support your interest in Harry. It's wrong, and it's perverse, and I am not at all happy about it. And mark my words; if you hurt that boy, it will go very hard on you. Don't you lay one hand on him in this house, is that clear?"

Severus nodded stiffly. "I understand perfectly," he responded in a cold voice. "But let me make one thing clear to _you, _Mrs. Weasley; you have no legal authority over 'that boy.' You have no control over him. He is his own person, with needs and interests that you may not approve of, but which lie at the very core of his being, all the same. And while you may not accept _me, _I strongly urge you to accept _him, _as he is, and without reservation, or you will lose him. With or without my help."

He stepped past her, stalking into the room as imperiously as possible. It was a good thing, at times, that he'd grown up closely observing Lucius Malfoy. A bit of superciliousness could go a long way. Molly was glaring at his back, he knew, but wouldn't dare reprimand him in front of the children. She knew better than to undermine his authority.

Harry was standing in the den, laughing with his friends. Severus stared at him for a long stretch, his breath quite taken away. Was it merely because they'd been apart so long, or did Harry really look…that…_delectable?_ He was taller than he'd been, and slender, and his dark hair fell rakishly over one eye, and, and…Severus couldn't put his finger on what, exactly, was different. Harry turned slightly, and Severus' eyes slipped down to follow the line of his back, the dark jeans that fit snugly against his hip, the taut swell of his buttocks.

Snape gulped, averting his eyes. He was sure his face was betraying him; he could feel the heat there, drawing everyone's eyes, no doubt. He cleared his throat, and the trio looked over at him. Granger gave him a small smile, and Weasley looked a little surprised, though Snape had assumed everyone would know he was coming.

"Professor," Harry said, coming over to him. The youth looked up at Snape with eyes that were impossibly large, filled with adoration and a hint of mischief. "I'm glad you could come," Harry added in a husky voice, and Snape fought for control of his nether regions. Damn the brat, why had he decided to play this game _now, _of all times?

"Potter," Snape returned as evenly as he could. He glanced up at the adults, who were standing together in a tight group and watching them blatantly to make certain Severus did not see fit to shred Harry's clothing, toss him down on the coffee table and molest him on the spot. Snape lowered his voice. "I _would _strangle you, but your self-styled mama bear told me in no uncertain terms that touching you will not be tolerated, and I should really hate to leave your little party with my manhood in a sack as a party favour."

Potter's lips tweaked at this, and he gave the woman a fleeting once over. Shaking his head, he told Severus, "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what's gotten into her. I could try talking to her, but I don't know that it would help much."

Snape lifted his shoulders philosophically. "So long as you don't incur her wrath, Potter. All I'm asking is for you to be discreet for one evening."

For some reason, the boy smiled widely at this. "I'll try," he said in an undertone. "But I have to admit that it's awfully hard to keep my hands off of you. You've been gone for so long, and all I really want for my birthday is to feel your tongue down my throat."

Severus coughed a little, scowling. "Hopeless," he announced when he had control of his voice. "Absolutely hopeless." Conscious of the eyes boring into them, Severus took a step backwards.

Harry darted an irritated, calculating look at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He looked back up at Severus and smiled widely, charm and innocence radiating from every pore. Severus didn't trust that one damn bit.

"The food is ready!" Molly announced happily, putting an arm round the boy's shoulders and leading him away. Harry shot a quick look over his shoulder at Severus, giving him a wink. Severus followed, nearly moaning with frustration. One way or another, he was sure he wouldn't survive the evening.

As soon as supper was finished, Harry begged to be let outside and take his Firebolt for a spin. Molly eventually relented, with many a caution not to fly too high, and the party wandered outside.

Severus was grateful, for once, that the brat had such a love of Quidditch. It kept him out of Severus' hair for a while, and he did look _exasperatingly _dashing on his broomstick. The green eyes shone with the pure simple enjoyment of whizzing through the air, and he flew circles around the other children as the adults spoke in low voices of the war.

Not that they _were _children, exactly; even the twins would have graduated by now, had they stayed in school. Still, no matter their ages, Severus felt that if anyone were twenty years his junior they _ought _to be a child, or else he was getting old, and that was not to be borne. Of course, he realized most wizards, who tended to live an incredibly long time, would not even consider him middle-aged, but there were times when his cynicism and world-weariness made him feel ancient.

"I'll help you with the dishes," Granger offered Mrs. Weasley, and that got rid of two other distractions, which pleased the Potions Master. He did not relish spending the cool evening fielding the hyper-intelligent student's questions. Lupin then excused himself to have a lie-down, and the Potions Master had to admit that the werewolf was looking fatigued. The man did not say anything to Snape, but urged Arthur to keep an eye on things before taking his leave.

Ron exited the game a moment later to confer with his father, asking him to explain the effects of magic on Muggles' mechanical valves. Arthur looked surprised at the query, but suggested he show his son his collection, which was in the shed.

"We'll just be a few minutes," Arthur told Severus, nearly bouncing to his feet. They wandered away, and the Potions Master watched with misgivings. An experienced spy, he knew to listen to his instincts, and he was getting a bad feeling about all of this. His suspicions were confirmed when Harry and the twins alit, and Harry handed off his precious broom to Fred, admonishing both boys to take turns with it.

With a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, Harry turned to Snape, prowling towards him from across the yard. Severus glanced over his shoulder at the house, expecting to see Molly Weasley peering out a window, but aside from a glow from one window, and muffled laughter, there was nothing. "Harry…" he began to say, trailing off as the boy approached.

"Hi," Harry said in a breathless voice that made Snape's heart rate accelerate. "Mind if I sit next to you?"

Snape's lips pinched together. "I don't suppose I can stop you." Harry laughed, settling himself on the bench. "If you wish to get me killed, by all means, continue this little game of subterfuge. Molly is sure to notice sooner or later."

Harry looked, to Snape's surprise, rather abashed. "I just wanted to talk," he said. "Surely a few minutes of intelligent conversation isn't too much to ask."

"That depends on the person one is conversing with," Snape shot back, arching a brow, and Harry gave him a rather dreamy smile that discomfited his lover.

"I missed that," the boy admitted in an irritatingly sexy hoarse voice. "I missed that a lot."

"Really? You cannot get verbal abuse, at the very least, from your family?"

"I can, but it's rarely as clever as yours," the brat responded, not cowed in the least.

Snape heaved a great sigh. "Look, Harry, I—mph umph mph!" The man struggled to push the pest off, shocked at having a sudden lapful of Potter. "Don't _do _that!" he growled when he'd managed to escape that sweet mouth. "You're going to get us both—mph! Potter!"

"I can't help it," Harry panted, looking up at him with beseeching eyes. "Just once, _please? _Just one kiss, and then I'll get off. I just want you to show me you haven't forgotten me this summer!"

"I think we're both well aware that you're sitting on ample evidence that I haven't forgotten you," he snarled.

"But that's just _sex,_" Harry protested. "That doesn't _mean _anything; it's a reaction you can't control. I just want you to show me you missed me, that's all. Please?"

Rolling his eyes, the Potions Master capitulated, setting his hands lightly on Harry's shoulders, and leaning forward to kiss him as chastely as possible.

"SEVERUS SNAPE! JUST _WHAT _DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" an enraged voice roared from behind him.

"Oh, Gods." He felt Harry pull away, but kept his eyes shut. _Now _he was in for it.

"It was my fault, Mrs. Weasley," Harry called out to her.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU GET OFF THAT MAN'S LAP THIS _INSTANT! _I TOLD HIM NOT TO TOUCH YOU; I HOLD HIM COMPLETELY RESPONSIBLE!"

"You told me not to touch him _in the house,_" Snape informed her.

He turned to look at the woman bearing down on him, and was surprised she hadn't burst into flames; her face was nearly fuchsia with rage. "And he's _not _responsible," Harry rejoined angrily. "I'm seventeen years old and I'll kiss anyone I damn well want!" To prove this, he grabbed Severus' hair and thrust his tongue repeatedly into the man's mouth.

Severus whimpered at both the loss and the consequences as Harry began to pull away. "I'm a dead man walking," he said resignedly.

"Actually, you're a dead man _sitting,_ but I figured you were already in it as deeply as you could get. I just thought you should get something out of it, is all," Harry responded, kissing his temple. He was still straddling his teacher when Molly reached them, flicking her wand and floating Harry off Snape's lap.

"I can _not _believe your behaviour," she told the boy in a scandalized voice. "I love you like one of my own boys, and don't deserve to be shown such disrespect."

Harry turned bright red, and Snape felt a niggling worm of shame in his own chest, as well. "I'm sorry that my behaviour offended you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her. "But you are _not _my mother. I won't kiss Severus here anymore, but I will continue to kiss him when I can. This is my choice. I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to it." He turned and stalked away to get his broom back, leaving the man at the mercy of Molly Weasley.

"Er. I must apologise, as well," he said quietly.

Her jaw was set, and by the glittering of the woman's eyes, nothing short of hara-kiri would redeem him. "I can't believe they allow a man like you to teach children," she spat. She turned on her heel and headed back to the house, screeching for Arthur as she went.

Mr. Weasley joined Severus a little while later, after having finished showing Ron his valves and getting chewed out by his wife. He looked very grim. "I have to tell you," he said in a steady voice, "That you ought to be _very _grateful that Dumbledore will have you in hiding for the rest of the summer. I don't know what Voldemort would do to you, but if you run into my wife again before she's had at _least _a month to cool down, things are going to be very unpleasant for you."

Severus groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. Merlin only knew _where _he'd be stashed away; Albus was quickly running out of secure hideaways. All he knew for certain was that things couldn't possibly get any worse.


	3. A Sneer Delivered Right to Your Door

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Three  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**SUMMARY**: Sequel to "The Master Plan." Slash. Harry is surprised to find a member of the Order on his doorstep on Privet Drive. Alas, Aunt Petunia is even more surprised, and thus begins a battle of wills like none other.

**Chapter Three:**** A Sneer Delivered Right to Your Door**

Harry was sprawled across his bed, running his fingertips across the smooth, cool surface of the little mother-of-pearl and mahogany box Severus had given him. It was a nifty little thing, shiny and elegant, and it fit in the palm of Harry's hand. Best of all, though, was what happened whenever it was opened.

"_For Merlin's sake, Potter; stop messing about and get to your studies." _

Harry laughed, shutting the lid only to open it again right away.

_"This isn't a toy, you know. It's meant to help you remember what you ought to be doing while I'm away."_

He shook his head, grinning at Snape's deep voice emanating from the teeny tiny box. It was a wonderful present. Every time he opened it, he got an entirely new gift.

_"You really are beyond impossible. I despair, I really do. I should have known you'd be using this for something ludicrous. I intended it to put the fear of God in you, and you're probably using it to wank." _The rich, smooth voice ended the sentence with a heavy sigh, and Harry shut the lid again, smirking. He _wasn't _wanking, but it was a rather nice thought.

"Boy! Come down here and help with supper. I don't care what your freakish little friends say; just because we're putting you up doesn't mean you get free board. You'll earn your keep, just as Dudders does with his summer job," Aunt Petunia's screechy voice informed him, causing Harry to roll his eyes. Dudley's summer job was at a local pizzeria, and seemed to consist mostly of his pigging out on the merchandise and complaining about the customers. Still, he was generously giving his parents about 1/100th of his check for rent, so they thought it was fabulous.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry called back. He heard her thumping back down the stairs, muttering about her wastrel nephew. Harry pressed his lips briefly to the top of the box and muttered, "I'll be back later," before shoving it under his pillow.

After dinner, Harry did the dishes, wondering if there was a spell to combat dishpan hands. He was certain there must be, but he would have been embarrassed to ask. He really would have liked to complain to the Order about his aunt and uncle, but they hadn't asked for much, so what could he say? 'They've forced me to do the dishes! Make it stop! Please! The horror!' sounded a tad melodramatic, even for him.

And really, he wasn't all that upset about it. He knew it could have been a _lot _worse. The only thing he was _really _worried about these days was Severus. The man was being hunted, he knew, and while Hogwarts was left nearly empty, there was nowhere safe for him to go. There were still a few weeks left before term. Would he be all right until then? Where would Dumbledore send him? When last they'd spoken, Snape had implied that they were running out of hiding places. God, where could he go that would be safe?

The doorbell rang, and Harry's uncle bellowed for him to answer it. "I can't!" he yelled back, annoyed. "I'm up to my elbows in baked-on grease! Besides, you ought to check and see if it's safe. I'd hate to tell my friends you weren't looking out for me."

"You vicious little weasel!" Vernon growled, but Petunia shushed him.

"Only a few more weeks, and then he's gone for good," she assured him. "I'll answer the door."

There were a few moments of blessed silence before Petunia began shrieking about _those people _and _the neighbours can see _and _You're one of **them, **aren't you?_

Harry poked his head out in the hallway, boggling when he saw Snape on the front stoop.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Dursley," he was saying in a flat, insincere voice. "I've brought a note; it should explain things. If you'll step aside, please." He pushed passed her, moving into the house. "I say, is this the main family room? How very…prosaic. You've certainly reached new heights of monotony. You must have put a lot of work into it." He caught sight of Dudley, parked in front of the telly, a handful of crisps on the way to his mouth. "And what a lovely elephant you have."

"You can't—can't just—come barging in here," Vernon was stammering, his face scrunched up in anger like a flat-nosed bulldog.

"Oh, my God!" Petunia exclaimed, pale after reading the parchment Snape had handed her. "You can't! You _can't! _You absolutely _cannot _stay here! Whatever would the neighbours think?"

"I assure you that I can. And if you try to stop me, I shall redecorate your entire house in shades of fluorescent orange. I shall affix sequins to every available surface. I shall, with one wave of my wand, change the outer colour-scheme to something in the glitter and rainbows motif." He towered over Petunia, glaring. "If you do not wish do draw your neighbours' attention, I suggest you rethink your position."

Petunia opened and shut her mouth, but nothing came out.

Severus strode quickly up the stairs, finding Dudley's room, and tossing a small bag onto the bed. "I shall be sleeping here. Your elephant may sleep on the sofa."

"But we _have _a guest room, and it's—"

"Too far from the kitchen," Snape proclaimed, "which is where I shall set up my potions laboratory."

"S—Severus?" Harry finally got out, squeezing past his cousin into the room. "What are you doing here?"

"Mister Potter," the man acknowledged, giving Harry an offhand nod. "I'm afraid I cannot give you all the details. Suffice it to say that when my last hideout was discovered—thanks, in part, to being followed after the fiasco that was your birthday party—I found myself out of safe havens, and Albus felt I would benefit from the watch that is currently on your own lodgings. In other words, he dumped me on your doorstep with a letter reading, 'Please care for this poor, unwanted child,' much as he did with yourself."

"_Potions _laboratory?" squawked Petunia, who was still stuck on his first announcement. Snape raised his eyes to the ceiling and slammed the door in her face.

"There. A bit of quiet, and isn't it nice? Now. We have a good hour or so before the rest of my things are Floo'd in, so I'll unpack and resize everything, and you may begin putting it away. Fold the elephant's belongings and I'll move them downstairs later."

"Sure," Harry said eagerly. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"No," Snape said shortly.

Harry glared at him. "So, what? We're just going to stand here in silence and fold clothes?"

"No," Snape replied slowly. "We have many things to discuss."

"Really?" Harry's interest perked up, as did certain parts of his anatomy. Perhaps Snape wanted to talk about their relationship, and where it was headed, and how the 'No-Sex Clause' really didn't make a whole lot of sense when they were living together in any case. "Like what?"

"Let's start with this; what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"_What?_"

"It's a first year Potions question, Harry. Even you ought to be able to deduce the answer. Fine, we'll try something else; describe to me the process of extracting antimony from its ore."

"_What?_"

Snape slowly turned to stare at Harry, one eyebrow raised imperiously. "If you do not answer my question correctly in the next ten seconds, Mister Potter, we are going to have _words._"

Harry frowned. Whenever they had 'words,' Snape was usually the one giving them out, while Harry sat bewildered under the onslaught. Really, sometimes he thought the man had swallowed a dictionary, and just liked spitting bits of it back out at him.

"You take two super-posed crucibles and cover one to reduce the oxidation of the sulphur. Then you—wait a second, what the hell has this got to do with anything? Look, number one, it's the middle of summer, and you don't have the authority to quiz me on my lessons. Number two, you're just trying to avoid the issue. What are you doing here? What's going on?"

Snape gave a great, growling sigh. "Mister Potter, I _cannot divulge any information. _I am under contract. I have pledged to do as I was bidden. If you will not stop pestering me, I am afraid that our relationship has no future. Do you understand?"

Harry's teeth clamped tightly shut, grinding slowly together. How _like _Severus to make an ultimatum like that. He tried to breathe deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Snape's face swam into view, tired and touched with sadness. Harry didn't understand. Was Snape unhappy that he couldn't discuss it? Did he worry it might cause the end of their relationship? Or had something else happened to make him unhappy?

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked. "I know you've had a rough summer, and I'm not helping."

"Well…you _are _assisting in folding my clothes, but I could do with less interrogation in the meanwhile. You will be told…when the decision to tell you is made. I am not the one with the power to make that decision. Still, I…I don't wish to alienate you," he added softly, almost talking to his hands, which were busy flicking Dudley's clothes out of the drawers to make room for his own.

Harry came round behind the man and put his arms around his waist, leaning on the slender back and inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "It was difficult for me to be away from you, and it's really horrible to be left out of the loop. It frightens me to know that things are going on—things that affect me—and I'm totally clueless about them."

Snape rested a hand over one of Harry's. "I know," he murmured. "I apologise for being unable to enlighten you. All I can do is assure you that I believe it is for the best. I dislike seeing you upset with me, but far better that, than seeing you endangered."

Harry smiled a small, rather bitter smile against the cloth of the Potions Master's robe. "Cruel to be kind," he intoned. "I understand." He cleared his throat a little. "Love you," he whispered.

Severus pried one of Harry's hands loose, and the youth thought the man would push him away, but instead he raised the hand to his lips, briefly pressing them against Harry's chapped knuckles. "I missed you, as well," he said. "It was almost amusing; whatever trouble plagued me, it was never _you_. I found it…strangely depressing, dealing with problems of which you were not the source."

Harry snorted. "Wow. Wild compliments."

Snape pulled Harry's arms away, turning to face him. "Dumbledore informed your aunt—via his little letter—that I am one of your professors. It would be…inappropriate for us to behave as lovers in front of your family." Harry could only imagine how disappointed he must have looked at this information, and Snape gave a grunt of laughter. He cupped Harry's chin in his hand, leaning forward to steal a soft kiss. "But I promise that I shan't completely deny you affection," he whispered.

Harry grinned, winding his arms round the man, feeling Snape's hand in the small of his back. "Mmmm," he said against Snape's lips. "Good enough for me."

OoOoOoO

Harry happily helped Snape set up his laboratory that evening, ignoring the way the older man couldn't seem to contain a dry smirk at seeing him enjoying anything to do with Potions. Harry supposed a great deal of his pleasure came from the fact that Aunt Petunia was standing in the doorway, staring in horror at the transformation.

Gone were her clean counters, now covered in bottles and jars. Gone was her shiny, polished tabletop, now hosting three large cauldrons, and a distiller. Gone was her window over the sink, long used to spy on the neighbours. It was now covered with a heavy curtain, both for privacy and to help keep in the cool air.

The entire room had been transformed; it was now dark, chilly, and very like the dungeons. Harry had no doubt that Snape considered it as close to 'home' as he was likely to get.

Several times in the next few days, Harry had to diffuse arguments over the arrangement. His family was afraid of magic, but they were also self-righteous prigs, and his aunt had always had considered the kitchen her domain, so he was unsurprised at the clashes. He'd hear his aunt losing her composure and shrieking "Get out of my kitchen!" and run downstairs to find Snape, equally strained and harassed-looking, bellowing, "Get out of my laboratory!" Harry would spend the next quarter of an hour calming Snape, while Petunia retreated to another part of the house to have her nervous breakdown and plot her revenge.

Generally, peace would be restored when Vernon threatened physical violence, Snape threatened magical harm, Dudley tried to hide under the nearest piece of furniture, whimpering, and Harry pleaded with everyone to calm down. Eventually, Uncle Vernon would take his family out for another expensive meal, Severus would fix something for himself and Harry, and Harry would lecture the man on self-restraint.

"After all," he explained rationally, "We don't want you to end up in Azkaban for murdering my uncle. Just…have some control, would you?"

"Control? This from the sex-fiend whom I found glued to my bedroom door in the middle of the night?"

Harry flushed. "I…I heard noises. I thought maybe you were being attacked. I was just trying to make sure you were all right."

Snape humphed incredulously. "Ridiculous. You were looking to sneak into my bed, or—barring that—you were looking to build your library of wanking fantasies."

"_I _wasn't the one wanking!" Harry shot back. "I _couldn't_, because your stupid entrapment spell stuck my hands to the door! And _yes, _I would have done if I could, but only because you were doing it first, and it's hard to listen to that sort of thing without having a reaction."

"You just keep your mouth shut about that, or I'll sue you for slander. And I wasn't doing _anything. _You were imagining things. It was the product of your unbalanced mind and preoccupation with sex."

"It was your bloody voice saying my name!"

"I'm not saying I blame you for fantasizing about it, I'm just saying that you ought to keep it to yourself."

"Well," Harry grumbled, "_You _ought to learn to be more quiet. You're going to give Aunt Petunia a heart attack, and I'm not sure if that would count as manslaughter. Best not risk it, all right?"

When the family returned from dinner, the cycle started all over again. Harry was never sure how it started, since he had never witnessed the beginning of an argument, but it inevitably turned into Aunt Petunia raving about freaks and deviants from the safety of the living room, and Snape viciously chopping potions ingredients while muttering about the 'horse-faced, horrible hag.'

Harry returned to the 'lab,' attempting to calm Snape down. He left his aunt to the rest of the family, if they cared enough to do anything about it. "You sound like you're talking about Camilla Parker-Bowles," he told the man. "Don't take it so personally. She's been saying stuff like that about me for _years._"

"She's a dried up prune of a middle-aged nag. If she was what you grew up with representing the female half of the species, it's no wonder you leapt straight into homosexuality. She'd have put me off girls for life, too."

Harry laughed. It was so nice to share the horrible bits of his life with; it lessened the blow. "I guess so. If I'm a freak, she has only herself to blame."

"Hmm. I doubt it's the root of _all _your problems, and you're not going to get any sympathy from this quarter. My own relations were every bit as awful, and I still managed to become a useful, responsible member of society."

"Um. What happened to all your relations, anyway?" Harry asked. It was something he was truly curious about, but cautious to approach. Considering the pensieve incident, Snape wouldn't thank Harry for getting into his personal memories.

"I poisoned them all," Snape quipped, but his voice was clipped. "The reward of being a Potions Master."

"Wow. I should study harder."

Snape's lips twitched. "Undoubtedly. Get your books and let's review, while I chop, all right?"

Harry groaned. He'd done more studying in the last week than he'd probably done in the last six years. "I don't want to," he moaned. "Can't I have a night off? Can't I just disembowel some bats or something?"

The Potions Master grunted. "I must express surprise that you find disembowelling bats more pleasant than cracking a book. Scratch that—I'm not really surprised at all."

"Very funny. I'm going blind from all this reading. And other stuff, too." He gave his lover a suggestive smile.

"None of that," the man responded severely, looking rather flushed.

Harry's smile widened. "I've got you flustered, haven't I? Who would have guessed that the big, bad Potions Master would fall for a scruffy thing like me?" Harry attempted to seat himself in the man's lap, but Snape held him off.

"And who would have guessed that the Golden Boy of the Wizarding world would take such pleasure in getting his poor old Potions Master hot and bothered, knowing nothing could come of it?" the man responded sourly.

"That's _entirely _your decision," Harry pointed out.

"Only due to the fact that you're too irresponsible to…to…" Snape broke off as Harry kissed him.

"Can't help it," Harry said, lowering his head again, nuzzling against the man's neck and ear. "It's not because I'm irresponsible. It's because _you're _irresistible."

"Harry…" Snape groaned, his hands rising to clutch thin shoulders. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"But I _want _you," Harry whispered heatedly.

"And I want you," the man echoed, his own voice trembling. He pushed Harry back, one hand softly stroking a smooth cheek. "But I don't want you just for today. I don't want you just for tonight. I don't want you just long enough to kiss, or to couple with, or to parade about so that everyone had a chance to see I'd acquired a stunning young lover. I want you forever. And if I take you tonight, I've already broken that dream."

Harry's eyes finally focused, losing their haze of desire. "What? Why?"

Snape sighed. "Because I made a promise, and they will _take you away from me_, if I do not comply. That, or they will send _me _away. Either scenario would end things between us. Is that what you want? Is that a trade you're willing to make?"

Harry groaned, sliding to his knees beside Snape, burying his head in the folds of robe near the man's thigh. "No…you _know _that. But why is it so _hard? _Why can't anything in my life be easy?" He became aware that Severus was stroking the back of his head with one hand while he peeled shrivelfigs with the other.

"I haven't the faintest idea. Supposedly, hardship builds strength of character. I've mostly found that it merely breeds bloody-minded bastards that would mow down their own mothers for a taste of power, but I'm surely missing something in the equation." He tugged at Harry's collar. "Up, now. You don't want your family to see you like that."

"No, I guess not." Harry stood up slowly, straightening his shirt. "I think I'll go upstairs," he said, "and take that wonderful box you gave me, and have a bath." He headed for the door, leaning against the frame and looking gloomily back at Severus. "I reckon I can soap myself up, and have a good enough time without you, so long as I close my eyes and pretend and all." He paused, as if waiting for Snape to say something. "'Night," he said, slipping out of the kitchen.

The man sat, utterly still, listening to Harry's footsteps trundle up the stairs, eventually into the bathroom, and pause. There was the sound of running water.

Snape made a low noise of frustration and pulverized his last couple of shrivelfigs. He had a lovely, randy, seventeen-year-old beauty one floor above him, drenched and naked and doing terrible things to himself, and _picturing Snape all the while. _And while that was well and good and wonderful and exactly the way things should be, it was also the most indescribably unpardonable thing that had ever happened, because Snape _could not do a single thing about it. _Making a move on Potter now would cost him his job, and, if Lupin was to be believed, his humanity as well, inasmuch as werewolves are not human—and that was only _if _he survived the bite.

The Potions Master lowered his head to his hands, whimpering. Why couldn't he have been the recipient of this sort of attention _years _ago, when it might have made a difference? And how the _hell _was he going to survive the rest of the summer, if Harry kept pulling tricks like this? Resigned, he threw the worthless shrivelfigs away and turned the heat off the cauldron. He gave Petunia a vicious snarl as he passed her in the hall, and headed up to his rooms, where he hoped a silencing charm and a measure of self-abuse would restore his equanimity…if not his dignity.


	4. The Saga of the Kitchen War

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Four  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**BETA: **The Intrepid Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**NOTES: **I'm very, very sick right now, so this will probably have to last you a while. sniffles and coughs Until I can crawl back to my computer or think straight, at any rate. Also, I'm working on a Remus/Harry for the Mortal Moon Fest, so that's taking up a bit of attention. If anyone would like to beta it, I'd be appreciative.  
**SUMMARY**: Still stuck at the Dursleys', Snape struggles through, day to day, sure that if the Muggles aren't the end of him, his young lover will be.

**Chapter Four: ****The Saga of the Kitchen War **

By the end of Snape's second week at Privet Drive, Harry was surprised that no one had resorted to homicide. They had a couple of close calls. Once, Aunt Petunia had resolved to take back her terrain, and laid a quiet siege. She hovered round the doorway for hours, scowling hatefully at her usurper, until Snape lost his temper and hurled a jar of scarab wings at her. Then she fled.

The next day, when Snape was showering, Petunia slipped into the kitchen and poured several of his potions down the kitchen. Snape only realized where they'd gone when the disposal began emitting sparks and puffs of smoke. He promptly retaliated by surreptitiously putting a Hairdont Hex on Dudley as the boy was leaving for the pizzeria that afternoon. Dudley was fired when he showed up at work with a rainbow coloured Mohawk.

Vernon and Harry, for their parts, were mostly trying to stay out of things. Vernon occasionally bellowed at Snape from a safe distance, and Harry warned his aunt repeatedly to stay out of the kitchen, but it was too much trouble—and far too hazardous—to come between these duelling titans.

Friday, Harry slipped into Severus' room at bedtime to try to reason with the man. "Look, it's only for another couple of days, and then we'll head back to the school," he said. "Can't you just keep your temper in check until then?"

Snape looked blackly at him. "That woman is a bloody menace," he grumbled. "I really _haven't _lost my temper with her, not yet. Everything I've done so far has been perfectly reasonable—and justifiable, as well. She would _not _have fared this well with Lucius Malfoy. He'd have strung her up by her underclothes by now."

"Speaking of Malfoy," Harry said, desperate to get off the subject of his aunt's underclothes, "what's the news on him? I haven't heard anything about him since he attacked Voldemort."

Snape merely arched a brow. "That falls under 'privileged information,' Potter. Don't pry."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "I _wasn't_," he responded. "But _why _are you keeping me in the dark about all of this? What good could it possibly do?"

"Your Occlumency is still shoddy at best. You may be a marvel on the Quidditch Pitch and a darling of most defence professors, but this is one area where you continue to need work. Until you have mastered the ability to keep others out of your head, we simply cannot divulge such information to you. It isn't safe for you, and it isn't safe for us."

Harry's face flamed. "I understand," he muttered. "Sorry."

Snape peered at the boy suspiciously, as if he expected some underhanded trick. "Yes. Well. Given your deficiency," he said, "we shall have to resume your training this year, and do it harder and longer than we formerly did."

Harry sighed. "The 'harder and longer' part I like, but can we do it without the Occlumency?"

The Potions Master snorted. "Undisciplined, sex-obsessed ruffian," he muttered, folding back the covers.

"What do you expect?" Harry retorted, watching avidly as the man prepared for bed. "I'm seventeen years old. I'm in the throes of hormonal overdrive. How am I supposed me to handle it, when you won't even touch me?"

"I do _touch _you," Snape protested. "And you'll just have to handle it the way all febrile teens with reluctant lovers, and long-suffering men with scruples do; toss off, for heaven's sake!"

Harry burst into laughter. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that," he said. "It's just so—just so—_uncouth._"

Snape looked irritated. "Everyone does it. It's a perfectly natural phenomenon."

Harry tried to catch his breath. "Well, yeah. Obviously. That doesn't make it the most natural topic of conversation."

"Look at you," Snape offered a smirk. "Using words of _four whole syllables. _I'm astounded. Doth the end of the world draw nigh?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes full of amusement and affection.

"I love you, too," Harry murmured. "That's four syllables, and _you _hardly ever manage them."

Snape looked away quickly. "You know how uncomfortable I am with _that _particular topic," he grated.

"Yeah. But _wanking, _oh, you can talk about _that _all _night!_" Harry teased. He sat beside the man, enjoying the feel of the warmth of Snape's leg against his own. "I don't mind, really," he said softly, tentatively putting a hand on the man's thigh.

Sighing, Snape rose, pushing Harry's hand away. "I suggest you don't do such things, Mister Potter," he growled.

Harry felt a rush of confusion and hurt. "What things? And why are we back to Mister Potter all of a sudden?"

"Just…nothing. Just get out, all right? Leave your much-abused Potions Master in peace for the evening."

Harry leapt to his feet. "Abused? Where the hell did _that _come from? All I did was try to be nice! You know, sometimes I wonder why I bloody well even bother, I really do," he groused, stomping past the man. He tossed a scowl over his shoulder. "If I treat you so badly, maybe you'd be better off if I just left you the fuck alone, eh? Enjoy your _solitude,_" he snarled, snapping the door shut behind him.

Severus raised a hand to his face, rubbing tiredly at his temple. Merlin, he was so out of practice at this sort of thing—as though he'd ever really had any in the first place. He had no idea how to accommodate another person's whims, or how to compromise, or even how to placate someone after a misunderstanding. He felt woefully unequipped to deal with an adolescent lover, particularly one of Harry's temperament.

He switched off the light, adjusting his robes and himself, feeling ashamed, exasperated, and inappropriately titillated that Harry had damn near put his hand there. _Another night with Rosie and her five sisters, _he thought resignedly, crawling into the elephant's lumpy bed. _And me, with no attraction whatsoever to women. What a wonderful fucking life._

OoOoOoOoO

The next morning, Harry did not approach him for breakfast as was his usual routine. When Severus bumped into him in the hall, Harry snubbed him, refusing to say a word. Snape gritted his teeth and went headed for the kitchen to vent his frustrations by pulverizing pennyroyal. It was true that he had handled things poorly last night, but there was no need for Harry to be so _childish _about it. It made him feel as though Lupin might be right; being involved with someone half his age was pure folly.

Still, Snape recognized that the basis of their quarrel was due to his own lack of candour. If he had merely said, 'Potter, please don't put your hand so near my lap; you've given me a raging erection,' the little sod might have taken it better. Perhaps, at any rate. Come to think of it, there was no good way to express that particular sentiment. It was just as likely that the brat would have taken it as an invitation.

Eventually, the man realized it was late afternoon, and he'd accomplished nothing. He hadn't been able to concentrate on his potions, there was no communication from the Headmaster to take his mind off of things, and he'd taken out a text that he'd been meaning to read for weeks and stared at it for almost an hour without absorbing a thing.

Perhaps it was time to admit defeat—or at least take a different tack.

Petunia looked nonplussed when Snape joined her in the gardens. "What do you think you're doing out here?" she demanded. "Standing there…in all that—_black_, and—and—and _billowing _for all the world to see!"

Snape looked past her, examining the dahlias and daffodils. "You have a…nice…flowerbed," he said slowly, as if every word was being dragged out of him by wild horses. He prodded at some purple and white flowers. "What are these called?"

"Snapdragons," Petunia reluctantly informed him.

He drew his hand back and edged away a little. "Are they of the spitting variety?" he queried suspiciously.

Petunia looked at him as though he'd grown another head. "What? Don't be ridiculous. There's no such thing."

"I assure you that they exist; I have seen them. They are venomous, and I was nearly blinded. But I think only the _Angelonia angustifolia aggravanta _can spit. The venom is of use in some potions, but of course I haven't harvested it myself."

Petunia merely stared.

"May I?" Snape reached around her, plucking one of the flowers. "Hmm. And these are nice, as well, I suppose. If you're not looking for something _functional. _Or even especially interesting, really." He heaved a great sigh. "I suppose these will have to do."

Petunia's eyes were filled with apprehension. "What are you going to do with my flowers?" she quavered.

Snape turned, giving her his most threatening glare. "Oh, my dear Petunia, you really wouldn't want to know. The truth is even more horrible than your worst nightmares."

The woman gulped, watching the Potions Master stalk away.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry paced. He accidentally kicked Dudley's desk on the way past, and snarled obscenities at it for injuring his foot. Still smarting, he sank onto the chair, reaching down to rub his toe. What a day. First he'd missed breakfast because he wanted to avoid Snape, then he'd run into the man in the hall, and Severus hadn't said a word to him. Later that afternoon, a note came for Snape through the Floo, but it was charmed so only the Potions Master could read it. It had burnt Harry's hands when he tried to pick it up. It had fallen behind the sofa, and Harry left it there. After all, he couldn't pick it up, and wasn't allowed to use magic. Snape could track it down himself, if he wanted to be such a berk.

_So. Grumpy boyfriend that flares up for no reason. Check. Bad situation in which I'm immature and not speaking to said boyfriend, check. Empty stomach, check. Burnt fingers and unquenched curiosity, double check. Throbbing big toe, sure. What the hell. Wouldn't want to spoil the perfect day, would we?_

Harry leaned forward, resting his forehead against the desk. He would have liked smacking his head against the wood a couple of times, but knowing his luck, this was a recipe for a bloody gash and an instant concussion. Best not to risk it, really.

He bit his lip, thinking about Snape. Why the hell did the man have to be such an awful beast? Harry had only been trying to be nice. Sometimes he felt like he gave and gave and gave, and rarely got anything back but the teensiest bit of slack—just enough to keep him around. He was really starting to resent this. Snape never acted like they were in a real relationship. They didn't behave as lovers in front of other people, they didn't spend quality time together—outside of schoolwork or potions, which were all Snape seemed to be interested in—and they didn't _talk. _If Snape got angry, he threw Harry out. If he got annoyed, he clammed up. If something was worrying him, he never divulged it.

The only thing they really talked about was magic. Harry was beginning to wonder if they _were _a couple, or if he was just completely delusional. Maybe they really were just teacher and student. Who happened to snog once in a great while.

A knock came at the door, and Harry groaned. "What is it?"

During the long silence that followed, Harry began to worry, and pulled out his wand. "I've something for you," Snape's voice penetrated the door, sounding unusually timid.

Harry stalked to the door and threw it back, ready to let loose and berate the man.

Snape shoved an untidy bunch of flowers under Harry's nose. They were tied together with a green silk ribbon.

"What the…?"

"My apologies," Snape said. "Er…for last night. I realized that my behaviour was unacceptable, and I do hope you will forgive me. And…I know it's not exactly quite proper to bring you…_these, _but they _are _traditional in this sort of situation, as far as I understand it."

Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling. "You brought me flowers? To apologize?"

Snape stared at him for several seconds.

"What are you doing?"

"Counting backwards from ten and trying to keep from becoming irritated and pointing out that we've already had this part of the discussion," the man snapped.

Harry grinned. "Whew. That's a relief. For a minute there, I thought you were going soft. If you did this sort of thing more often, people might think you were _human _or something."

"Perish the thought," Snape said dryly.

Harry glanced down at the flowers almost shyly, breathing in their perfume. "So…uh, what _was _wrong last night? What did I do?"

Snape flinched. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. "You did nothing wrong. I merely…" he trailed off with a sigh. "I was fighting off a nearly irresistible compulsion to pull you onto my lap and have my wicked way with you. And your hand on my thigh was turning it into a losing battle."

Harry laughed. "Why didn't you just say something? I would have understood. I get like that all the time around you," he added wistfully.

Snape closed his eyes. "Yes, I know. It _is _unfair. All my life, I—" he swallowed, stopping.

"You what?"

"Never mind. It was…an uncomfortable subject to broach," the Potions Master admitted.

"But _why_? We talk about sex all the time!"

"We really don't," Snape said in a stern voice. "And I didn't want to encourage you."

"I see," Harry responded dully. "You thought I'd try to take advantage of you in your moment of weakness."

"Something like that," Snape admitted. "You've been…rather voracious lately."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't mean I'd do something like that. Something you didn't want to do. I respect you, you know. And I have _some _morals."

Snape smiled. "Ah, yes. The indubitable Gryffindor code of honour. I suppose I'd forgotten. I just worried that, with you as a randy adolescent and me in the shape I was in, we wouldn't be able to control ourselves."

Harry finally smiled, too. "I guess I understand. And it'll be like that for us, when it happens. Fiery and fast and out of control."

Snape gave a grunt of laughter. "You're probably right about the 'fast' part, considering your age," he said.

Harry fiddled with the bow that held the snapdragons. "You brought me flowers," he muttered, a crooked grin forming. "You soppy old thing." He paused a moment. "Thank you. It was…that was…kind of sweet, actually. I like them."

"They're hardly anything to swoon over," Snape said dismissively. "They have no use, unlike Mandrakes or asphodel or sneezewort. Quite boring, really."

"But they bring a bit of colour into my room," Harry said, admiring them from several angles. "A bit girly, but I don't suppose I mind. Falling in love with another bloke is a bit girly, so it's hard to find good arguments against it." He stood in front of Snape, shifting from one foot to the other. "Since you're such a thoughtful boyfriend, I forgive you," he said with a wicked grin.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Merlin help me. Next you'll be wanting to meet for trysts in the Astronomy tower."

"Ooooh, could we really? I bet it's right romantic, with all the stars around." He gave the man an impertinent but brilliant smile.

"Absolutely not," Snape told him with certainty. "Unless I can devise some convincingly reasonable excuse for having you out there in the dead of night."

"I know! We can go up there to snog, and if anyone catches us you can tell them you brought me up there to throw me off the tower."

Snape laughed softly. "Well done, my little Slytherin. We'll make something of you, yet."

Harry stood on his tiptoes, pressing his lips to Severus'. Snape's arms slowly crept around him, pulling him close. They were still only holding Harry lightly, ready to let go the moment things became too heated.

"You'll not make a man out of me?" Harry whispered suggestively in between kisses.

Snape let out a shaky breath. "Not yet." He pulled Harry closer.

"But someday? Promise it will be you. I don't want it to be anyone else. I don't care what they say. Promise it will be you." He ran his tongue over Snape's lower lip.

Harry's fingers crawled delicately up Severus' back, and the Potions Master shuddered slightly within the embrace. "I promise."

Harry kissed the man ferociously then, one leg creeping up and trying to hook around Severus'. His lips were needy, beseeching, and hot against Snape's, who allowed himself a moment of weakness by suckling softly on them. He ran his fingers through the brat's unruly hair, pressing his hand to the back of Harry's head, deepening the kiss.

Harry moaned, his knees almost giving out, and Snape's arm around his waist was the only thing that kept him somewhat upright. One of Harry's hands was still clutching the bouquet, dangling around Severus' neck. The other hand tugged at the man's collar, wrestling with button after maddening little button.

"Harry—don't—" Snape managed to get out when he realized what the monster was after.

Harry ignored him, pushing forward and sliding his tongue along the roof of Snape's mouth. He felt the man's resistance weaken, and redoubled his efforts on the frustrating robe. He promised himself that he wouldn't go too far, but it had been so long, _so long _since he'd gotten a glimpse of Snape's body, and—

Finally, it was undone enough to push off one shoulder, and Harry wriggled excitedly against the man, feeling an exhilarating hardness against his stomach. This was how things were supposed to be, _this _was what he wanted, this was everything—

There was a clicking noise, followed by a shriek; agitated by the commotion, Hedwig pummelled her cage with great flaps of her wings. Harry stumbled away from Snape, looking round in shock.

Aunt Petunia was standing in the doorway, holding a feather duster. Her jaw was slack, and the whites shone all around her eyes as she stared at Harry, still clinging to his bouquet, and Snape, half-dressed and panting.

"Blast you, Potter," Snape growled. "You've bollixed things up again."

Petunia's eyes rolled back, and she slid to the floor in a heap.

Harry found he didn't feel very sympathetic.

**A/N: Thanks to:**

Shewolf7—I'm glad you like it! I'm afraid you'll feel sorrier for them as we go along, though!  
Klondikebar—Actually, the name makes me laugh, which is good. I wouldn't leave them alone _too _long.  
Heather—Yup, Harry's entering his seventh year in this one. I plan on seeing it through!  
Sweet Mercy—Well, gotta keep the tension up; that's half the story! She _is _lovely, isn't she?  
Lotrox—Lurking is evil. One must be loud. Lotrox the loud! I always tack on a random adjective for one reviewer I list. I've gotten very confused responses at times, but I find even that entertaining. I hope I get well soon and can even _start _on the next chapter!  
Jemma Blackwell—I'm glad you're along for the ride! J'taime, as always!  
Jenonymous—I think my muse is sick, too. I'll dose us up with Ny-Quil and see if that helps…probably not. ; )  
Aribella—Did you ever read 'Arabelle and Mortimer?' Every time I see your name, I think of it. And it's out of print, dammit. I'm vexed. Hang in there and try not to waste away! I'll see if I feel well enough to write tomorrow.  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor—Naughty Harry is the best kind of Harry!  
Serena23—Thanks ever so much! Yes, that does sound like a cunning plan. Unfortunately, we have plot in action, here. Insidious plot. Creeping in and all. ; )  
Fairchilde—g I've had the idea festering away for some time. I just wanted to put Sev and Petunia in a room together and make them have a pissing contest. Hee hee.  
Snape's Nightie—Squee! The elephant line was my favorite, it really was. I just love the idea of Sev. saying it in a faux polite voice. And fiend is just friend without a useless 'r.'  
Echo the Insane—Severus is definitely at his best when he's hot and bothered.  
Steffles24—I'm so glad you liked the bits I liked doing the most! And I would pay very good money for a box like that. If Rickman _really _wanted to be rich… sigh Slowly, slowly, questions will get answered. If I remember, at any rate!  
Qem—Yes, a ficcish dominatrix am I. And yet I leave your question unanswered once more. Tune in next time!  
Miki23—Ah, but Harry knows, as does any good Gryffindor worth his salt, that rules are made to be broken!  
And the Limitless Lillyseyes—Thanks! I haven't even begun with the angst, though. I'll warn you ahead of time, I swear. ; )


	5. The Passionate Potions Master

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Five  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**NOTES**: This is going to be done in spurts, when I have the time and energy, and I'm not sure where it will take me.  
**SUMMARY**: While Harry is busy trying to force the summer to live up to its potential, Snape discovers dreadful news.

**Chapter Five: ****The Passionate Potions Master **

Snape quickly pulled out his wand. "Get her into a sitting position," he ordered.

Harry dropped his flowers on the desk and hurried to his aunt, propping her more or less upright. "Gngh. What are you going to do?" he queried, sounding just a little bit worried—and a tad winded. "And would you get on it already? Merlin, she's like a sack of potatoes."

"Obliviate," Snape muttered. "Let's drag her out in the hall before waking…"

Petunia's eyes popped open. "Where am I?" she squawked. "Why are you touching me?" she demanded of Harry. "Get away! You!" she added, paling as she laid eyes on Severus. "What have you done?"

Snape arched a brow coolly. "Now Petunia, I _did _warn you that you never wanted to see what happened to your flowers. But then you had to go and…_meddle_," he spat.

Aunt Petunia let out a garbled sort of shrieking croak, and made her escape, brutally clawing her way over Harry and wriggling out the door.

Harry slammed the door behind her. "Well, that would have been funny if it didn't _hurt _so much," he announced. Harry looked up at Severus, three red, irritated vertical lines bright against his white face.

"Up, boy," Snape told him. He took Harry's jaw in his hand and turned his face this way and that, looking over the marks scratched into the skin. "I have a healing solution here that should help," he announced, pulling a small vial from his sleeve.

"Do you? Nifty!" Harry said brightly. His face had reddened under the intense, silent scrutiny, and he only calmed when the man stopped staring.

"I never leave home without it," Snape told him, pulling out the stopper and letting a few drops fall onto his fingertip. "Here, stand under the light." He gently rubbed the potion over the abused skin, which began healing immediately, hissing and smoking slightly.

Harry gingerly touched his face when Snape had finished, and ran over to the broken mirror that was propped against the closet door. Not the slightest trace of the welts remained. "Wow! Wicked," he announced, turning his head from side to side.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You learned it in your third year, you imbecile. Now, if you've finished sulking, vamping, getting into mischief, and generally making my life hell, I've a meeting with Mrs. Figg."

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry echoed. "A date?"

"Don't be daft," the Potions Master told the boy. "She and I have things to discuss, that's all. You needn't get your knickers in a twist every time I feel the need to converse with another…likeminded individual," he eventually concluded.

Harry gave him a small smile. "It's all right. I'm not jealous of Mrs. Figg, at any rate. I'm pretty sure you won't forget me. Are you going to her house?"

Snape gave a soft sigh. "No. The wards are stronger here. We'll merely sit on the porch and have a little chat." He readied himself to leave. "You _will _conduct yourself with decorum, will you not?"

Harry batted his eyes at the man as innocently as he could. "Don't I always?"

Snape groaned in defeat, heading back downstairs.

OoOoOoOoO

For the first time in a long while, Snape was comfortable. He had his long legs stretched out in front of him, Mrs. Figg was perched merrily beside him, and he was sipping a cold glass of lemonade from the pitcher she'd brought. It was exceedingly nice of her to have added that 'secret ingredient,' which was _not, _as one might assume of a woman of her nature, 'love,' but rather 'vodka.' Snape was well into his second glass, and reflected for a moment that he was quite fond of Mrs. Figg, really.

In fact, he was almost fond of the world, despotic madmen and big-hearted loonies notwithstanding. After all, he had most everything he could possibly need. He had a safe haven. He had a serviceable potions lab. He had a young, insatiable lover who would surely attend his every whim, if only Snape let the boy do so. He had a houseful of trembling morons to terrorize. And most of all, he had a _lovely _glass full of sweet, sparkling, alcoholic beverage.

He sighed. This was the life.

He should have known it wasn't going to last.

A bang from the screen door behind them announced Potter's arrival, and Snape looked up to see the troublemaker ready to do what he did best. The whelp was only half clothed, his shirt abandoned for the sake of showing off his slender chest, and he had a book and a ratty old towel tucked under his arm.

"Hi, Mrs. Figg!" he chirped with a shining smile. "How's your summer?"

"Just fine, my boy, just fine," she told him jovially. "I can see you're doing well."

"And _what, _exactly, are you doing?" Snape growled.

"Oh, hush," Mrs. Figg told him. "The poor boy gets enough browbeating when you're not here."

Harry gave him that kicked-puppy-dog look, and the man shut his eyes, blocking out the sight. "I just came out to read for a while," the boy whined. "I've hardly been out all summer, and I look it, too. My skin's so pale I might as well have been languishing in the dungeons all summer."

"It looks just fine to me," Snape said, before swallowing hastily. "I mean…you're obviously just trying to overhear our conversation."

"I'm not!" Harry protested loudly. "I wasn't going to be anywhere _near _you! I just figured with the two of you here, I'm probably about as safe as I could be."

Snape scowled.

Harry pled with his eyes.

"You may stay at the far end of the yard," the man finally commanded.

Harry nodded quickly. "Sure. Okay. Just let me know if you need anything," he added with a charming smile, sauntering away.

Severus couldn't help but notice the boy was wearing his new denim trousers—the ones that fit his frame snugly. He took a rapid swig of his lemonade, averting his eyes. A come-hither glance was tossed from over the boy's shoulder, leaving Severus' pulse quickening. Was it just the man's imagination, or was the boy really _working _those hips?

Hurricane Harry does it again.

Snape just hoped the little terror would stay on his side of the yard.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry flopped out on his towel, glancing up at Snape from under his eyelashes. He told himself he wasn't worried about Snape. Snape wasn't going to leave him for Mrs. Figg, and nothing was going to happen to the man just because he was outside, and Harry didn't _always _need to be right there next to him. Still. He did want to watch. Just in case.

Squirming a little, Harry frowned. Snape had said his skin looked fine, but that wasn't much of a compliment. In fact, Snape's reaction to his presence was certainly nothing like what Harry had been aiming for when he slipped into his GIVE ME SEX NOW jeans and ambled outside without a shirt on. The man hardly seemed to notice. It was really irking. On the other hand, Snape wasn't the sort of bloke that would cause a scene over something like that. He was really private. He probably _thought _Harry looked great, but he wouldn't say it in front of Mrs. Figg.

This logic made Harry feel a little bit better. He sighed, staring at the muscled hero on the cover of his book. The man had long, dark hair that was caught in a breeze, and a swooning woman with a huge bosom was draped over one of this thick forearms. The man was a _bit_ on the bulky side, but if Harry squinted a tad, he looked kind of like Snape. That was mostly the reason Harry was reading it. He sure as hell wasn't interested in the woman, although he _did _wonder how she managed to stay upright, being all top-heavy. He'd found the romance novel in his aunt's knitting basket, and was immediately struck by the protagonist's resemblance to his own boyfriend.

He just _had _to nick it, if only to see what it was about. His aunt never missed it—Harry had a shrewd idea that it wasn't Petunia's at all, but rather Aunt Marge's, who probably left it accidentally last time she visited it. There wasn't any magic in it, but it was a lot more creative than anything he thought his aunt Petunia would ever read. And racy, too. All those heaving chests and slender waists, and strong arms that swept a girl right off her feet, followed by instances of squeezing and stroking and screaming. Harry was quickly absorbed by the rather detailed, if somewhat silly and sentimental lovemaking scenes, and had been reading for more than a quarter of an hour before he was interrupted.

"POTTER!" Snape bellowed.

Harry's head jerked up.

"_COME HERE!_"

Harry was on his feet in an instant, paperback still clutched in one hand as he tore towards Severus as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't know if Snape was angry, in danger, or just impatient, but his voice suggested that Harry shouldn't dawdle, so he didn't. He leapt over the rose bushes, sprinted through the grass—then caught his shoe on the edge of the flowerbed and plunged headlong into the geraniums.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing?"

Harry groaned a little, pushing himself up on one elbow. Snape was looming above him, looking irritated. "Making an idiot of myself," Harry responded. "_Obviously._"

Snape heaved a sigh and bent over. Harry thought the man was going to help him up, but instead he plucked the book from the youth's hand. Harry watched, aghast, as the man held it up for examination. The dark eyebrows shot sky high, and Harry groaned again.

"_'The Passionate Pirate?'_ 'A love doomed…a bride captured…catapulted into a world of turmoil and tenderness…a destiny that binds two fates…' Dear God, what _is _this _utter tripe?_" Snape's glance snapped up, catching on Harry's face. "Potter…were you _reading _this?"

Harry didn't think his face could actually catch fire, but it was making a good effort. He miserably tried to bury himself back in the geraniums, hoping to blend with their bright pink petals, and become somehow less conspicuous.

"Merlin above. You're reading romance novels and surrounding yourself with flowers. Something has got to be done."

"It was an _accident_!" Harry howled, now thoroughly humiliated. "And I was only reading it because dashing Dan, the pirate captain, looked a bit like you!"

Snape stared at him, then looked back at the cover. His shoulders began to shake. It took Harry a few moments to work out that he was laughing, as he'd only seen it happen once before. "Complete berk that you are," the man said fondly. He slipped the tome into his robe. Harry felt the stirrings of disappointment. Rachel had only just shown up at Dan's cabin at midnight, wanting to know if he knew where her father was, and Dan had been bare-chested when he answered the door. Harry'd had great hopes for that chapter.

He wondered if this was going to result in him growing up to be maladjusted.

"Here," Snape said, offering him a hand. Harry took it, scrambling up and wiping the dirt from his jeans. He looked forlornly at the flowers he had flattened, knowing his aunt would have it in for him when she found out. Snape produced his wand, and straightened them up again.

Harry brightened. "Thanks!"

"Don't thank me yet, young fella-me-lad," Snape said in a grim voice. "_You _are in _trouble._"

Harry swallowed. "Uh-oh. What'd I do _now_?"

"Letter. From the Headmaster. To me. Ringing any bells?"

Harry clapped his hand to his forehead. "Oh! I'm sorry; I completely forgot! One came when you weren't around, and I tried to pick it up but it burnt me and I dropped it, and now it's behind the sofa. God, I'm sorry," he repeated. "I was angry with you so I wasn't going to tell you, but after we made up I never thought about it and—"

Snape, who'd been storming towards the door to the house, stopped and whirled around. "Harry," he said seriously. "This sort of thing cannot be mucked about with. This isn't a game. When a letter comes for me, I must have it, regardless of whether you and I are having personal issues. Greater things are at stake. Do you understand? You mustn't do this again, for whatever reason."

Harry nodded unhappily. "Yeah, I really do. I'm sorry. It was juvenile of me."

Snape let out a long, frustrated breath. "Would that that were something new," he muttered, and headed inside, Harry trailing dejectedly behind.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape re-read the correspondence. It couldn't be. It really _couldn't be. _He wanted to beat his head against the table, but exercised self-control. This was almost the worst news he could possibly get.

Finally, after revisiting the parchment for the umpteenth time, Snape waved his wand over it, causing it to crumble to ash. Nothing left to be traced, just as Dumbledore wished. And it certainly was news he didn't want being traced—particularly not to _him. _He had enough problems of his own without being caught up in _this _mess. Unfortunately, it looked as though he'd have no choice.

And drat the Headmaster; he had the temerity to be _pleased _that they'd acquired a new spy. He was, judging by his words, transported with joy by the event. He was probably in his office dancing a jig and sucking down lemon drops as though they were…well, candy.

It was entirely possible that Snape was the only living person who knew why allowing this state of affairs to continue was such an atrociously bad idea.

And on top of everything else, this was bound to affect his relationship with Harry, sooner or later. Not the least because the entire situation had to be kept from the boy. Snape felt his stomach churn as he pondered how upset Potter would be at hearing the news—and realizing his lover had chosen to keep it from him

Well…nothing for it. It couldn't be helped. All Snape could do was go on as he had, and hope for the best. It was a shame he was so out of practice at that.

Nervously wiping his palms on his robes, Snape pushed his chair back and exited the makeshift lab. He found Potter sitting glumly on the landing, jeans caked with dirt, face soiled, sticks and pink flower petals decorating his wayward hair.

"What's up?" the monster asked. "They're not making you leave, are they?" he added anxiously.

Snape stared. "You're very…pretty with bits of flowers in your hair," he eventually said.

Harry looked rather alarmed at this. "Oh, no! Was that letter really from Voldemort? Was it cursed or something? What did it do to you?"

"Stop being an offensive runt," Snape snapped. His face softened after a moment, and he put a hand to Harry's cheek. The boy's face glowed crimson, and the man smiled slightly. "You have such soft skin," he whispered.

Harry shuddered, his eyes dropping almost shut. "Would you—could we—kiss?" he asked breathlessly.

Snape considered this for a moment. "Yes, why not? I'll just Obliviate anyone who tries to get in my way." He drew Harry into his arms, their mouths fitting together as though they'd been made to do so. He fancied they must have been. One of Snape's hands absently feathered its way through the boy's hair, knocking bits of twig and petals to the floor.

They pulled away, and Harry smiled self-consciously, ducking his head a little. "Thank you. That was nice."

"Thank _you_," Snape replied, still gazing absently at his student. "Do you know any poetry? I've got an anthology of some of the loveliest verse upstairs, and I think I should enjoy it if we spent the evening reading it together. What say you?"

Harry shrugged, at sea. "Uh…sure."

The man forced a smile. "Good." He put an arm around Harry, leading him up the steps, and Harry leaned into the gentle touch.

Snape _never_ offered Harry so much affection. In fact, Snape never offered Harry so much attention, either. Harry supposed he ought to be thrilled at the man's apparent change of attitude, but he couldn't help thinking as he burrowed into the safety of the Potions Master's lanky frame, that something was terribly wrong.

He hoped he never found out what it was.

Somehow, though, he doubted he'd have a choice.


	6. The Frightful Snuggling

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Six  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**NOTES**: I'm sorry, but I really couldn't resist. ; P And OH! Check out the art at http/ www (dot) fanart-central (dot) net/pic-200577 (dot) html and squee over spicysteweddemon's luffable pic! I am SO writing a chapter just for you, my dear! And Harry and Snape look JUST like I picture them, which is amazing!  
**SUMMARY**: Harry suffers from a different sort of nightmare, someone knows more than they ought, and Severus fights to return everyone to the castle in one piece.

**Chapter Six: The Frightful Snuggling**

"Harry, my love," Snape murmured, tenderly embracing the youth and staring deeply into his eyes.

Harry squirmed in his sleep, sweat dripping from his somnolent body. His limbs twisted in the bedclothes as he tried to escape this horrendous nightmare.

"Mnrph. No. Nooooo," he groaned softly, face contorted in an expression of revulsion. This was not his Snape. This _could not be _his Snape.

The man in his dream stepped back to reveal a suddenly bare chest, tanned and smooth and rippling with muscles.

"NOOOOOOO!" Harry sat straight up in bed, his heart slamming in his chest. He gulped for air, hand flailing towards the bedside table for his glasses. What a gruesome dream! He let his head fall back against the pillow, one hand pressed to his slick chest, feeling the thunder of his pulse and rapid pants of his breath.

He slowly began to calm, thankful he'd remembered to put the Silencing Charm up. It was force of habit, since he still wasn't great shakes at Occlumency, and didn't want to wake the house if he had one of _those _dreams, although he hadn't since the beginning of the summer.

When he felt well enough, Harry curled onto his side and tried to get comfortable again. He hoped the nightmares wouldn't come back, but he didn't feel optimistic. He scowled at the darkness of his room. Between that bodice-ripper and Snape's earlier mood, he was sure he'd have normal nightmares for _weeks._

He was really worried about the man. Snape had been distinctly out of character all evening. The Potions Master had read drippy romance poems at him, for God's sake! What was he supposed to think of that? On some level, Harry was aware that Snape had been doing it for _him_, trying to comply with what he assumed Harry wanted in a lover. The thought was…considerate…Harry supposed, but it just wasn't _right. _He hadn't minded the reading so much—Snape had a _gorgeous _voice, and it didn't much matter what he was actually _saying_—but the lengthy dissertation about Harry's many virtues was frankly disturbing. When the man had stooped to calling him his "little turtledove" Harry had run, horrified, from the room.

Something was definitely wrong.

He didn't know how to deal with it. He knew he probably ought to confront the situation and Snape, and ask what was going on, but so far he hadn't worked up the courage to do so because (a) Snape might actually _tell _him what was going on, and he wasn't certain he wanted to know, (b) Snape might tell him to take a flying leap, which would get him nowhere, or (c) Snape might cuddle and cherish him to death.

It was a risk he wasn't willing to take, at least not until he'd had a chance to really think things through. Unfortunately, he'd fallen asleep still pondering the plague of affection, and it had infected his dreams.

Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose, contemplating Snape's behaviour. He had to assume it all had to do with Dumbledore's letter. Either it really had been cursed, or it had contained such horrible news that it had twisted Snape's already dangerously corkscrewed mind. Perhaps the man only had months to live. That would explain it. Snape didn't want to die knowing that he could have doted on Harry more often, didn't want Harry to forget him, didn't want to leave without spending as much time with Harry as possible.

Harry swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. But Snape was the perfect picture of health! As much as he ever was, for a greasy, pale old bat, at any rate. But…it could be something sudden. Come cancerous disease, some health-stealing hex, something that crept up and swept the life from your limbs in a matter of days or weeks.

What if Snape was really sick? And the last thing Harry had done was fled from the man like his life depended on it. He should be at Snape's bedside, right now, nursing him and assuring the man that he was loved. What must Snape think? Was he lying in bed, lonely and frightened of his fate? Was he feeling trapped within his suddenly treacherous body, aware of the life draining away? How long did he have? Every moment away from Snape was a moment wasted, a moment to be regretted for eternity!

Harry rushed from the room, blindly stumbling down the hall. "S—Severus! Open the door! Sev—please; hurry!" Harry was choking with emotion as he rapped his wand on the wood.

The door flew inward, and Snape stood over him, looking peeved and perplexed. "Potter? What the hell are you doing up at this time of night? I should—" He recoiled just slightly as Harry threw his arms around his waist, burying his dishevelled head in the crinkled nightclothes. "What's the matter?"

"I should ask you!"

"What?"

Harry looked up, eyes glistening, although he wasn't actually crying. "You—you're sick, and you didn't even _tell _me," he accused. His chin trembled. "How could you keep something like that from me? Oh. Oh. I don't mean to criticize. I don't want to fight—not now. Oh, Snape. And we'd hardly got a chance to know each other, too." He sniffed, shaking his head miserably. "I can't let you die. I _won't _let you die. I love you too much!"

Snape boggled at this. "What the devil are you going into hysterical histrionics over _now_?"

"How can you act like I'm overreacting? Merlin, Severus, it's your _life! _Didn't you think I'd be upset?"

Snape heaved a great sigh, patting the tousled head. "Harry. You've had a bad dream, that's all."

Harry brightened a little. "I did! But…some of it's real."

Snape folded him into an awkward embrace, comforting Harry more than any sentimental snuggling ever could. "Everything's fine…or no more a disaster than it usually is, at any rate. You must have had a nightmare. I'm not sick, I promise you that, barmy little bedlamite that you are."

Harry sighed, breathing in the smell of the Potions Master. "You're not fine. Everything's _not _fine. Something's wrong. You've been acting odd all night. You recited love sonnets at me. You coddled me. You were _pleasant,_" he spat with some venom.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I vow never to be pleasant again. I promise to be as odious a bastard to you as I can manage. I'll not defile your ears with the likes of Byron in the future. I'll beat you day and night. Is that what you want, you twit?"

Harry managed a half-smile. "I just want _you, _the way you _are_." He looked at his feet for a moment. "What was wrong with you earlier? Why were you acting like that? You…you scared me," he admitted.

Snape ran a hand through his hair, and took a seat on the bed. He motioned Harry over, and surprised the youth by pulling him down as well to settle on Severus' lap. "I simply had a sudden reminder that my time with you will not last forever," he stated, looking earnestly at Harry. "We are living in a perilous world, and there are many risks ahead of us. Right now, I am here with you. Right now, we are safe. You are in my arms and whole and sound, and we have…a…romantic relationship, of sorts. It merely occurred to me that I ought not take this for granted. You have expressed some frustration lately with the limits of contact between us, and I was attempting to make it less onerous for you by…compromising, if you would."

Harry blinked. "Oh. I see. Then you…you're not dying?"

Snape shrugged. "Not any more than anyone is, in the course of growing older."

"Good." Harry's shoulders sagged with relief, and he gazed tiredly up at Snape. "I'll be glad to leave for Hogwarts tomorrow, but you know, I'll miss having you right down the hall. It was comforting to know you were near if I needed you, and that I could come to see you any time I wanted."

"Ha. How exactly is _that _going to change? I'm a bit further away in the dungeons, but you've always whipped out your cloak and come to bother me when you felt the need," Snape pointed out.

"But I gave you my Invisibility Cloak," Harry reminded the man.

Snape looked uncomfortable. "Yes…well…I've hardly had any use for it. Perhaps you should take it back. I'd feel better knowing that you had it in case of any emergencies."

"No," Harry replied in a firm voice. "And you must know that I feel the same way about you. I'll try to stay out of trouble this year, but _you've _been revealed as a spy, and Voldemort will keep after you because of that. I'd rather you kept it."

The man gave him a thin smile and pressed his lips to Harry's forehead. "Perhaps you'd best return to your own bed," he said quietly. "You're obviously exhausted."

Harry nodded, but made no move to get up, leaning against Snape. "I feel better knowing that you're all right," he whispered. Several minutes passed, neither man speaking.

Finally Snape broke the silence. "I suppose I could set an Alarm Charm to wake us before your detestable relatives are likely to rise," he suggested.

Harry gave him his sunniest smile. He crawled over Snape and promptly made himself at home in the bed, burrowing under the covers. "Any chance of a little snake ball?" he queried hopefully.

"Would you really enjoy that in your elephant's bed?" Snape replied, sliding in beside him. "Knowing that this is likely where the elephant himself has had wet dreams?"

"Oh, _God!_" Harry croaked, revolted. "Now I don't even know if I can _sleep _here. Haven't I suffered enough nightmares for one evening?"

Snape smiled slightly. "I performed as many cleaning charms as I could think of," he informed the youth. "It's as sterile as I could possibly make it." He watched as Harry rolled over, wiggling until he was as close to the man as he could get. He gave Snape a lazy smile, and Snape plucked the glasses from the bridge of his nose, setting them aside. The Potions Master brushed his lips against the spot where they had rested. "Sweet dreams, my little turtledove," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

"Shut up, greasy git," Harry growled, face pink.

Snape merely chuckled, curling one arm across Harry's chest.

OoOoOoOoO

The train was teeming with students. Apparently, the class of incoming first years was swollen to nearly double the usual size, and every compartment was crowded because of it. _Nearly _every compartment, Harry mentally amended. Even the first years took one look at Snape—who was slouched casually in his seat, one slim black leg crossing the other, glaring daggers at everyone—and took to their heels.

Harry shook his head at the man. "Why do you do that?"

The Potions Master didn't look at him, but affected an innocent air. "Why do I do what?"

"Why are you so _mean _to them? That last one nearly wet his pants." Harry gave him a disparaging look.

"It is hardly my fault that he regards the offer of an opportunity to learn more about the giant squid as some sort of terrible fate."

"You threatened to fill his pockets with earthworms, tie him to a twenty-five-meter rope and throw him in the lake to see what the squid 'might make of him.' It didn't sound all that educational the first time around."

Severus shrugged. "It restored the peace and quiet. Besides, you can't honestly tell me that you were delighted with the notion of spending the next two hours with him staring at you with that bug-eyed gaze."

"Well…it _was _a little unsettling," Harry admitted.

There was a knock at the door, and Colin and his brother entered. "There you are, Harry!" he said, beaming. "And look, Dennis, it's Professor Snape!"

"Hello, Professor Snape!" Dennis chimed in as both of them took their seats, utterly oblivious to the way the professor's face screwed up in loathing.

Harry bit back a grin. "Hi, Colin. What are you doing here?"

"Someone said there was a man in here who was offering to show the squid to the new students."

"No, they said he was offering to show the new students to the squid," Dennis corrected.

"Yeah. In any case, Dennis already met the squid, but I never did. Was it you, Professor Snape? Can you introduce me to the squid?"

Snape opened his mouth, but Harry interrupted. "It was just a joke, Colin."

Colin looked disappointed for a fraction of a second, before recovering. "Well, at least I found out where you were, Harry! You look great; did you get a lot of sun this summer? Did you grow a lot? You seem a lot bigger, to me."

Harry laughed. "I think that's just because I have clothes that actually fit."

"Oh. Yes, they do." Colin's eyes raked over Harry critically. "Holy cow. You shouldn't have to wear robes over those. It'd be a shame."

"What?" Harry blinked, glancing uncomfortably from Snape back to Colin.

"Nothing. It's just…you must have spent a lot of money on a new wardrobe, and it's too bad no one will get to see it in class." He smiled ingenuously, but Harry still felt embarrassed at the way Colin kept glancing down at the rest of his body.

"Oh. Right."

"Oooooh, look; it's Ginny Weasley," Dennis said in a hushed voice, glancing out the door. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

Colin giggled. "She's pretty, Dennis. Dennis has a bit of a crush on her," he told Harry.

"Shh! Here she comes!" Dennis squeaked. "Act natural."

Ginny undulated into the compartment, and Harry gaped. "Ginny! Flipping Fizzing Whizbees. What are you _wearing_?"

Ginny gave him a cat-like smile and sat down next to Colin. "Don't you like them?" she asked, gesturing to her tall, leather dragon-skin boots. "It took me three years to save up enough money." The boots almost reached her knees, and a small pleated skirt hung just above them. She'd also curled her hair, letting it fall in gleaming waves over her shoulders.

Dennis was drooling, but what Harry mainly felt was a twinge of something like envy. Even Severus was staring at her.

"Miss Weasley, you'll lengthen the hem of that skirt _immediately_. It is _not _the proper attire for a respectable young witch at Hogwarts," Snape told her briskly.

"Aw, _professor,_" Dennis whined, and Colin winked at Harry.

"I wasn't exactly going for respectable," Ginny announced, "But I'll change it if you like." She gave a stretch as she stood. "Whoops. Dropped my wand." Bending over in a rather contrived manner, she shot Harry a sly glance over her shoulder. Their eyes met, and Ginny winked at Harry.

_Uh oh, _Harry thought. He had thought she was over him.

"Don't worry, Miss Weasley. I'll fix it for you," Snape said in a dangerous voice. His wand dipped slightly, and he muttered, "_Protractus Distortum_!"

"No, don't!" Harry gasped, reaching out as though he could grab the wand away in time. He winced as the spell hit her, surrounding her with a halo of topaz light.

The dress shimmered for a long moment, shifting colours from its original grey, to crimson, to plaid, to a mix of muddy brown and vivid pink, and it seemed to stretch and unroll, unfurling until it reached her ankles.

Everyone stared.

"_Paisley?_" Ginny squealed. "You turned it long and pink and brown and _paisley_?" She glared at the Potions Master, outraged. "You ruthless _bastard!_"

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, shocked.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape replied impassively. "And you'd do well to remember how truly diabolical and vengeful I can be."

Ginny brandished her own wand, muttering "_Finite Incantatum_." Nothing happened. She tried spell after spell, but the dress was clearly resistant to further change.

"Here, I'll try," Dennis offered eagerly. He managed to give the skirt ruffles and turn it puce. Ginny looked like she might cry. Or scream. "You—you still look nice," Dennis tried to assure her. "Only you could pull it off, and—"

The compartment door opened again, and Blaise interrupted. "Excuse me," he muttered. "If I might borrow Professor Snape for just a moment?"

Snape seemed a tad paler than usual as he rose and left the compartment, shaking Harry's hand from his robes. "I'll return momentarily," he said in a subdued voice.

Harry couldn't help but fret. What on earth did Blaise think he was doing? Why was Snape letting him do it? Harry pressed himself against the door, trying to hear what they were saying. He wished he had one of Fred and Georges' Extendable Ears.

"Want one of these?" Ginny asked, and Harry looked up to see her holding a pair out.

He grabbed them up, numbly thanking her, and she gave him a watery smile. Turning his attention back to the door, Harry heard Blaise and Severus.

"…not very much at all," Severus was growling bitterly.

"I gave you as much as I could," Blaise insisted. "Do you have any idea how hard it was—how hard all of this is on me?"

To Harry's shock, Severus' reply was soft, almost sympathetic. "I believe I have some inkling."

"Right. Well. I'm going to take up position now," Blaise responded.

The door clicked, and Harry threw himself back in his seat. Severus returned, his eyes far away. He sat beside the window and stared out intently, brooding.

"Be quiet, all of you," he commanded when Colin and Dennis became too exuberant.

"I've had enough of this," Ginny told them. "I'm going to find Hermione. Maybe she can fix my skirt."

"I'll come with," Dennis offered, hurrying to help her so that she didn't trip on her dress.

Colin gave Harry a wan smile, but didn't join them. They rode in silence; Colin gazed at Harry, Harry stared at Severus, and Severus glared out the window. Harry shifted, wanting to say something, but Snape raised a hand in warning, and Harry shut his mouth. What was going on? Why was Snape so upset?

The longer they rode toward Hogwarts, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The only sounds were from the other compartments, muted and indistinct. Harry shivered, pulling his cloak around him more tightly. Snape was so cold to him sometimes. He thought back to last year, when Snape had rebuffed him, saying that Harry's feelings weren't returned, that he didn't want Harry staying after class any more, or visiting his chambers. He remembered how horrible he'd felt when Snape had found his journal, how he'd run from the room and the rejection, how he'd sat outside the tower and sobbed until dawn, and Snape had never come to get him. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, feeling even more chilled and miserable.

"You know, it was a real shock when I found out you were with Professor Snape," mused Colin quietly. "And Blaise, too. You were hardly out of the closet before there were rumours about you being with Blaise. I didn't know what to think at first, and then I learned you really _were _going—"

"Be silent," Snape snapped. His body was tense, like he'd been wired too tightly.

The train jerked, throwing them all forward as it came to a sudden halt. There were screams coming from the students, sounds of fear and horror. Harry shuddered, and came to the sudden realization that the cold, the despair, and the very atmosphere had a familiar feel to it.

"Dementors," Harry whispered. "Just like third year."

Colin was curled up in a ball, his eyes round with fear, showing the whites all around his irises. "Harry—I—"

"Stay here, both of you," Snape commanded, sprinting from the compartment. Of course Harry disobeyed, and followed at once.

The train was filled with Dementors, overflowing with the black-shrouded monsters. They occupied every available space, packed into the compartments tightly, hovering above the children and trying to pull the souls from their bodies.

A handful broke away from the mass at the north end of the train, heading for Severus and Harry. Harry darted out in front of the Potions Master, determined to protect the man at all costs. He lifted his wand, but suddenly he was knocked to the ground.

"You _idiot_," Snape's voice thundered in his ear. "I told you to _stay_."

Harry barely heard the man over his mother's screams, over the high laughter, over the awful last moments of his parents' lives. There was an abrupt, jerking motion in front of his face, and he dimly registered it as Snape's hand, flinging something at the advancing Dementors.

There was a rushing sound, and a great grey tunnel opened up in the corridor, a vortex of wind roared and ripped at Harry's hair, his clothes, pummelling his face. The Dementors, making odd rattling noises, were torn from their anchors, from the children upon whom they were feasting.

The witch from the trolley cart appeared at the other end of the train, yanking the door open, and the cyclone began shifting, rumbling towards the exit, sweeping up Dementors and candy wrappers and whatever else it could whip through the air. Harry began breathing again when the witch struggled and shut the door behind it, cutting off the howling of the wind with a clunk.

"They were after me, weren't they?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus was still draped over him, shielding him. "No," he responded shortly. "They were after me."

**A/N: Thanks to:  
**Rock and Sarcasm—I'm glad you're enjoying it! The next chapter won't be out for a while, because my beta will be out of town, but it will be the same, high-quality Snarry goodness as this one, I hope!  
Aribella—For goodness sake, I actually went and looked that book up, and you can buy it online for about ten bucks. I'm gonna do it. Illustrated by Quentin Blake, so you know it's awesome. J'taime!  
Kit—Thanks! I was nervous about that bit. I never want Snape to get too fluffy. I'm worried that I'll get lynched for it!  
Lychee2—I may do the chapter titles eventually. I just need to get my creative juices flowing and examine each one with a cynical, snarky eye.  
Valanth—At 17, I promise Harry will have hormones galore!  
Claggart—Oh, there'll be more with the romance novel, I promise. It's too good a literary tool to not use! ; )  
Lillyseyes—Yeah, Harry's earnestness is what I love best about him. He means well, sweet little thing that he is.  
Lotrobsession—I'm glad you revived! I have the smelling salts if you need them!  
Johnnydoggspitt—Cute Sev is definitely scary. And yet…it has such great potential for humour, you know? And now you begin to glimpse my true plan—to take over the world via the power of the Snarry!  
Sweet Mercy—Eek! I've had computer problems myself. Yahoo has decided it doesn't like me anymore. I hate it when the machines get uppity.  
Fairchilde—Oh, there are so many good possibilities for the spy role. And many applicants, I'm sure. But even _more _mystifying will be the person working for the other side…unless they're one and the same, of course. ; )  
Casadarn—Thanks! I try to keep them relatively in character…'cept for the mushy Severus bits, of course.  
Serena23—lol I may do a bonding fic eventually, but I don't think I'll take that route with this one. But…we'll see.  
Miki23—Yeah, Snape's in for a rough time. But he wasn't a spy all those years for nothing! It'll be a while before Harry catches on…  
Qem—I think he'd be rather hot as a pirate, don't you? I think he'd quickly tire of the salty-languaged, ill-bred sailors, though. Glad to make you snicker!  
Jenonymous—Oh, Harry's klutziness is straight from my life. The trash can incident in TMP? I lived that, only it more involved a Stairmaster and a trash can and…you know how it is! I wish I could have some vodka right now. It would undoubtedly boost my SlashMuse2000, but I'm dieting and can't touch the stuff. I can be fat and funny or skinny and mundane, apparently. Curse you, God of Dieting!  
And the Glossy GryffRavHuffSlythendor—Oh, so much better! And a few pounds lighter, too! Now I just need to add some weight to the fic…and some naughty!Sev, in the next chapter or two…or three…


	7. Insanity is Just a State of Mind

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Seven  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: Yay for the return of Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: There are plots to kill Harry, plots to catch Harry, and plots to force Harry to be a Good Boy. Harry, of course, is oblivious to the plots themselves, but the general effect on him is that he wants to beat everyone over the head with a stick. With Snape's help, he _might _not go completely crazy. (And just so you all know, I went back and put in the pithy titles. They may not have made it as far as FF yet, but hopefully they will soon.)

**Chapter Seven: Insanity is Just a State of Mind**

Harry struggled out from under Snape, his face flushed from exertion and embarrassment. Students were pouring from other compartments, some hysterical, some in shock; _all _of them seemed to be fighting for a chance to gawk at Harry and Severus. Hermione came running from the front of the train.

"Are you all right, Harry?" She didn't pause as she passed, though, instead moving to Snape and helping him to get gingerly to his feet.

Harry stared. "Fine. Snape? You all right?"

"Oh, I'm marvellous," the man muttered, stiffly straightening his robes.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to question the man more about the attack. The Potions Master stepped forward, and it became apparent that he was limping. Harry moved to Snape's side, slipping an arm round his waist. "Here, back to your seat."

"I need to—"

"We have things under control, now," Hermione assured him. "There was a chocolate frog eating contest going on, just prior to the attack, so we're in pretty good shape, all things considered. Blaise and Ron are sorting everyone out and getting them seated again. I'll let you know if we have any problems."

Snape hesitated, and then nodded.

"Blaise?" Harry echoed as Hermione ducked back out into the chaos of the train.

"I…recommended him for the position of Head Boy, and Professor Dumbledore agreed," Snape replied, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"_Blaise? _As in the Slut of Slytherin? As in, 'Yeah, who cares if we're in the middle of a public passage, just shag me now' Blaise? As in, 'If you're _not _going to shag me, you're boring, and you're _dumped' _Blaise?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Um…I think I'm going to go see if Dennis is okay," Colin said, sneaking out the door.

Snape sighed. "He's taken on quite a bit of responsibility since Draco died, and I feel he ought to be rewarded, and challenged as well."

Harry sat back in his seat with a huff. He stared at Snape for a long moment. The man stretched his leg out, wincing a little. "Are you okay?" Harry finally asked again reluctantly.

"It's nothing to be concerned about," Snape responded flatly.

Harry frowned, but before he could argue, the door opened again and Ron popped his head in.

"Hey, mate. Hermione said you took a bit of a bruising, eh?"

"I'm fine," Harry disputed. "It's Snape who got hurt."

Ron shot the man a wary glance before sidling in and taking a seat. Harry was almost grateful for the distraction. Severus certainly wasn't being very forthcoming, and Harry wasn't sure how to approach him at the moment.

"Well, I think everyone in the train is fine," Ron said. "You hear about that chocolate frog eating contest? Good luck, that. A lot of the first years are really shaken up, but no one seems to have anything more serious than bumps or bruises. Oh! Except Eloise Midgen—someone stomped on her foot and broke it—but Hermione fixed it right up!" He beamed, glowing with pride in his girlfriend.

"She ought to have let me handle that," Snape grumbled. "It could have gone badly awry."

"Hey, she wouldn't have tried it if she wasn't certain she could do it," Ron protested. He turned back to Harry. "Dad told us about Snape at the Dursleys'. How was your summer with Old Sourpuss here?"

Harry laughed at the dark look Snape shot at Ron. "It could have been worse."

Snape arched a brow in his direction. "Really? I fail to see how."

"We're both alive and well," Harry reminded him. Snape sniffed, apparently unmoved, although Harry noticed that he didn't contradict him. "Anyway," he said to Ron. "It was a real…educational experience. Snape just swooped in and made himself at home. He has a lot of nerve, you know? I thought Aunt Petunia would keel over and die a couple of times; you should have seen her epic crusade to get her kitchen back. I'll bet she's happier than ever to have me gone."

"And are you now totally dark-spell-informed, ready to blast You-Know-Who back to the days of disco?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Well, I don't know about _that. _I _have _got all my school work done, though."

"Oh, come on. You lived with your own private Defence Tutor for almost a month, and you're not an expert yet? Bet you two did nothing but shag all summer," Ron said with disgust.

"Potter is somewhat more conversant with the strategies he'll need," Snape interrupted, "And I'll thank you to keep our sexual exploits out of it."

"Mate, I'd love nothing _better _than to keep your sexual exploits out of it. Unfortunately, since Harry does almost nothing these days but whine about how there _aren't _any, I—"

"Shut _up_, Ron," Harry growled.

"He's right. There _aren't _any," Snape confirmed. "Be sure to pass that along to Mother Dearest, would you?"

Ron just laughed. "Will do. That reminds me, did you see Ginny?"

"Did I ever! What's she playing at, dressing like some sort of…catholic schoolgirl streetwalker?"

"It's all about you, mate," Ron said wisely. "When isn't it? Ginny got the idea during the hols. She's going to 'turn you straight.' I can't say I'd be disappointed if she managed it, although I'm counting on Hermione to _Obliviate _me every time I have to see her breasts while she tries."

"Does your mum know she's dressing that way?" Harry inquired.

"Hell, she's _encouraging _it. Anything to save you from the filthy, deviant Death Eater."

"_Former _Death Eater," Harry reminded him. "and I'm just as deviant. I don't _want _to be changed."

Ron shrugged. "She worries. She says there are all sorts of nasty things you can catch, and that you can get hurt doing it that way, and that—"

"Only if you're not being careful," Harry interrupted. "It's none of her business—she's not the one taking it up the arse."

"At the moment, neither are you," Ron pointed out.

"I mean it Ron; keep her and Ginny out of my life." When he saw his friend's face darken, he hastened to add, "I love your family and all, but right now, they're driving me _crazy._"

"Tell me about it. You don't have to live with them."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape was glad to return to the closest thing he'd ever had to a home. He was relieved to find his dungeons in perfect order, his latest stores newly delivered from Hogsmead. He was thrilled to find that the house elves had kept everything clean and orderly and just the way he liked it. And he was _overjoyed _to find he still had a bottle of Old Ogden's in the liquor cabinet.

He was running late to the feast, and he knew it. Still, the day had already brought more than its share of Snape having to pretend to be sociable, or at least not curse anyone, so he figured he deserved a reward. He poured himself a small splash of the spirits, staring into the fire as he sipped from his glass.

Things were not going well. Already Voldemort had managed to make a very plausible threat to him, and the school year had hardly begun. The Dark Lord was not going to let Snape live to train Harry. He certainly wasn't going to be pleased with the possibility of Snape giving the boy some kind of useful knowledge. He would attack, rigorously, and often.

Snape wondered if he should give the boy up. Harry was in enough danger as it was. Being with the man exposed as a traitor would not earn him any brownie points.

The worst thing about Harry, Snape felt, was that the abominable flirt had given him _hope. _While hope was not, in and of itself, such a horrendous thing, he knew it was a sentiment he couldn't afford. He'd always assumed that Voldemort would one day end his life. His one, small dream was that he'd be able to die an honourable death, that he would somehow be redeemed for the mistakes of his youth. Not in _their _eyes; he never cared about the ubiquitous 'them,' and _they _could go fuck themselves. In his own.

Severus Snape was not a man with a great deal of forgiveness; he showed himself even less than he did his students. A knock sounded at the door, and he drew his wand reflexively. "Enter."

Blaise Zabini walked quietly into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. His black hair was wayward, his curls unbrushed. He didn't look the casual, chic youth he'd once been. "I think everything's all right, for now," he said in a rather hoarse voice. "I distributed as much chocolate as I could, and quickly."

"Can it be traced to you?"

"Are you joking? So long as I don't have someone's tongue down my throat, I'm practically a non-entity," he replied. He sat in Harry's chair without being asked, but Severus couldn't work up the energy to do more than scowl. "I'm the invisible Slytherin—the only one who doesn't wail and gnash his teeth and stomp about bellowing nonsense about pure blood. No, as far as anyone knows, it was Crabbe's doing. He and Goyle are famous for being pigs, so it was just a macho face-stuffing contest that spilled over. No one's even mentioned it."

"I've heard it mentioned," Snape shot back with some heat. "Both Granger and Weasley took note. I'd not worry about Weasley, but Granger is too intelligent for her own good. Don't pull stunts like that in front of her. You'll be lucky to get away with it this time."

"Yes, well…I have other news, as well. It wasn't as urgent, so I thought I'd save it for when we had—"

A pre-emptory knock came on the door, and the handle turned. Snape fired a Stopping Spell at it, and it stayed fast.

"Severus? Come on, open up," Harry moaned. "I'm tired, and I don't have the energy for games."

Severus stared at Blaise, thinking quickly. He didn't wish Harry to know about Blaise—not now, not yet. Things could too easily unravel once that happened, and Snape had barely had time to process things, let alone make any plans. He gestured to the door that led to the rest of his rooms. "Give us a few moments, would you?" he asked in a muted voice.

Blaise nodded, slipping away on cat-like feet. He closed the door behind him, but not all the way. Snape could still see a shadowed eye peering through the crack, and wondered whether he should be apprehensive about the tart not hiding himself well enough, or merely grateful that he was still in eyesight.

Taking a deep breath, Snape went to the door. "Mister Potter, I ask very little out of life. I seem to get even less. One of the things I cherish is my own private space, and I'm also fond of those miniscule amounts of time in which I am able to enjoy it _on my own. _Is that really so much to ask?"

Harry tilted his head, his expression irritated. "You're late to the feast, you know. If you don't have to go, then I bloody well don't see why _I _should have to go." He took his place on the chair Severus had gotten him last year—the one Blaise had vacated— smiling a little as he ran a hand over one of the arms. "Gosh, it's nice to be home."

Snape was nearly apoplectic. "You—you—that's—_my—_sodding—" he broke off, gulping air. Pulling himself together, he glared down at Harry. "Mister Potter, whatever liaison you and I might have the benefit of, whatever the Headmaster may suffer you to do, and however much I personally covet your sweet little arse, this is _NOT _YOUR HOME! You enter at _my _behest, and never at any other time. NEVER. Do I make myself clear?"

"As grouchily as always," Harry grumbled. "And it's still more of a home to me than anywhere else is," he said, unconsciously echoing Snape's earlier sentiments. "I was sort of hoping you might give me the key again this term."

Snape flicked an unhappy glance at his hidden co-conspirator. "Mister Potter, we are _not _having this discussion now. I have had _enough _trauma for one day, without your attempted invasion. Was there something you actually needed, or are you merely here to grant me a few more grey hairs?"

"You don't have any grey hairs," Harry muttered, but quailed under Snape's furious stare. "Actually, I wanted to know how you got rid of the Dementors. It looked like you threw something at them."

Snape bit his lip for a moment. "I used a bottle of Blustering Brew—a particularly strong one. Dementors are powerful in regards to magic, but very weak physically. It takes little to shift one from its place."

Harry's eyes were wide. "Oh. Wow. I didn't know there was such a thing. Pretty wicked," he said admiringly. "I was going to do a Patronus."

Snape gave a grunt of disapproval. "Against so many? It could not have worked. You wouldn't have been able to run them all off. You're not even of age—it would have been madness to think you could achieve the power needed for such an act."

"I'm nearly sure I could have done it," Harry responded mutinously. "And _you're _of age. Why didn't _you _just do the Patronus spell?"

Snape was glowering now. He muttered something unintelligible after Harry stared at him expectantly for a few moments.

"What was that?"

"I said that I can't perform the Patronus spell. Many wizards can't," he added defiantly as Harry's eyebrows rose. "It's hardly a simple spell."

"I'll teach you," Harry offered.

"Absolutely not. I—"

"I _will_," Harry insisted. "It'll be payment, of a sort. You're always teaching me, and taking time out of your schedule to do it. It'll be useful, too!"

Snape gave a groan of despair, resolutely keeping his back turned toward Blaise. "We'll discuss it another time. For now, you need to get upstairs."

"You're coming too, right?" Harry asked, fidgeting with worry. "You're not going to lock yourself away down here and drink all night, are you?"

"No," Snape sighed. "I'll be up shortly. Just go, all right?"

Reluctantly, Harry got up and gave the Potions Master a tentative hug. Snape gave him an awkward pat on the back, shooing him out the door. "I promise I can teach you the Patronus spell," Harry told him.

"I doubt it," Snape replied cantankerously. "I _have _no happy memories."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, wishing, for nearly the first time in his life, that he were back at Privet Drive. Ron and Hermione were lost in each other, breathlessly discussing the Dementors and how _clever _they had been during the attack. Ron had his arm tight round her shoulder, and Harry nearly expected his mate to coo with adoration.

He wanted to be sick.

Snape was at the staff table, avoiding his eyes. Remus, on the other hand, was there as well, and giving him the sort of flinty, '_You'd better behave' _sort of look that Harry almost couldn't bear it. Ginny was seated to Harry's left, and kept scooting her chair closer. He tried to scoot away, but that meant getting closer to Colin, who looked elated at the intrusion, and was babbling giddily about how brave Harry was to have run out to face the Dementors.

"I didn't even manage to _do _anything," Harry finally exclaimed in exasperation.

That brought Colin up short—for a fraction of a second. "But you were _going _to," he pointed out. "It's just that Professor Snape interrupted. And you probably would have gotten rid of them all, wouldn't you? I can just picture it—you standing tall and proud, with your wand drawn, and all the Dementors swirling thickly around you, and—"

Harry rolled his eyes. The two people he _did _want to talk to were too absorbed with each other, and the two he'd rather left him alone were all over him like hives. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"And are you, Harry?" Colin was asking him. "Are you? You really should. It'd be brilliant."

Harry blinked. "Am I what?"

"Are you going to start up the D.A. again?" Ginny spoke up. "And Colin's right, peculiar as it might be. You really should, Harry. It'd be good for _everyone._" The way she said 'everyone,' all breathy and soft, clued Harry in.

He scooted even closer to Colin, who looked like he might wet himself with excitement. "I—I—maybe," Harry stammered.

"Oh, Harry, you know what you ought to do?" Hermione suddenly piped up. Sure, _now _she had something to say, and of _course _it would be telling Harry what he ought to do.

Harry began grinding his teeth. "What, Hermione?"

"You should ask Professor Snape to assist."

Harry stared at her.

"You know, that's a fantastic idea," Ron said immediately. "What's the point of letting the irascible old bastard boff you if you're not getting anything out of it?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. They promptly transformed from honeymooners into a bickering old couple.

Harry ignored them both. "Well…it might be kind of difficult to convince him," he said slowly. "But really, he's always wanted the Defence position…and I might be able to mitigate how nasty he can be." He glanced up at his lover. The man was giving Lupin his every occasion SCOWL OF DOOM.™ He certainly ought to appreciate the chance to show everyone that he could be a competent—if not actually well liked—Defence teacher. Plus, Harry would have an excuse to visit Severus in private and attempt to be 'persuasive.'

Colin was beaming in response to the grin that slowly spread across Harry's face. "Will you do it, Harry? Will you start up the D.A. and ask Professor Snape to help and teach us all how to do the Patronus spell and all the other spells you know?"

Harry looked back at Colin, in better spirits than he'd been all evening. "Yeah," he said. "I'll do it."

**Thanks to:  
**Sbyamibakura—Obsessions are good! My beta is back in town, now, so the chapters should come more quickly.  
Xxsaturnprincessxx—Thanks!  
Tristheweatherwitch—(You can't see me, but I'm preening.) I'm off to write some more story right now. Stay out of trouble! ; )  
Johnnydoggspitt—Don't worry, I call everyone 'kid' too. Or sweetheart, which can be infinitely more problematic. More cliffies on the way, I don't doubt!  
Chantelli—I'm going to get bored with having my praises sung? What planet are you from? And I'm in love with multiple fictional characters. They don't have real flaws, and you can imagine them without actually having to deal with them.  
Lutheyl—Thanks very much!  
Tropicwhale—I don't know about _that._ It's hard to do a good 'established relationship' fic, but I think I'm getting the hang of it as I go along. And you're lucky. The other night I dreamt I was feeding a leopard to two hyenas and the hyenas attacked me. Now _that's _a nightmare.  
Sweet Mercy—Hee! I just like my Snape closer to IC, and I want Harry to like him that way, too. Moose head?  
Echo the Insane—Thanks! I'm having fun writing it…most of the time. Making people stare at you oddly is one of the raisons d'etre!  
Kyer—I think I might have gone a bit Terry Pratchett with that line…it reminds me of the Patrician, somehow.  
Steffles24—There was a discussion on LJ about how someone always hit the back button when they read Sev. saying 'Harry, my love,' so I just HAD to do it. I'm evil. I kept meaning to put the snakeball in and forgetting. And you know, Harry probably wishes he could smack Sev upside the head for the same reasons, sometimes!  
Purplepaper—I like your name! And thanks!  
Aribella—So did something better manage to happen after 10:00 A.M.?  
Lotrox—I'm not revealing a thing! You'll have to find out for yourself in future chaps, but let's just say that I'm protecting my spies very well…  
Jenonymous—You know, I think I have a thing for plagues. I use the word a lot. (laughs) You know, paisley seems to be BACK. It's all over Walmart. shudders Hey, I didn't get born late in the 70s just to have to live through that AGAIN, did I? Oh, M&Ms for PMS…would be soooooo nice right now. 20 more pounds. 20 more pounds. I can do it.  
Qem—(g) I'd still love for Sev to read sonnets to me, though. With that VOICE…  
GriffRavHuffSlythendor the Great—Yeah, naughty Sev will make it into an upcoming chapter for sure, but we'll get more naughty Harry, first.


	8. An Equal Opportunity Study Group

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Eight  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**NOTES**: I actually read a bodice-ripper for this. As much as I could stand, anyhow!  
**SUMMARY**: Snape delves into the bodice-ripper, Harry tries to get his help, and Hermione fights to keep the D.A. non-discriminatory…which might be a horrible mistake.

**Chapter Eight: The D.A.—An Equal Opportunity Study Group**

Snape yawned, nuzzling his way deeper into the pillow. It was now almost two in the morning, and he _still _couldn't seem to drift off. He tried to assure himself that it wasn't because the Potter brat wasn't within earshot. He very logically insisted that Harry was safe and well in Gryffindor tower, and exactly where he belonged. He very carefully thought around the fact that 'where Harry belonged' was on the left side of the bed, where Snape had, horror of horrors, for some reason _left room _for him.

Harry wasn't even present, and he was _still _taking over Snape's life.

Snape gave a grunt of displeasure, sitting up and punching his pillow. He'd looked forward to his return to Hogwarts from the moment he'd left last summer, and now the place felt…like it was missing something. Hell, his _bedroom _felt like it was missing something, and he fumed internally, knowing exactly what that something was. He'd have to deal with all of it at some point.

For now, he got out of bed and paced for a while, trying to take his mind off things. He could feel his stomach churning, and the last thing he wanted was have to make himself another potion to counteract an ulcer.

He looked around for something to do, and finally began putting things away from the summer. Snape wouldn't have let the house elves touch them, particularly since they had an inclination to make his robes smell of flowers after washing them. He simply couldn't abide going round reeking of roses. In one of his robes, he found the bodice-ripper he'd confiscated from Potter, and opened it curiously.

It was obviously a Muggle book, although he'd be the first to admit he had little experience with 'romance' in any culture. He flipped through it casually, muttering criticisms as he did so. "…far too pleonastic," he said at one point. "Good God. 'Her lustrous golden hair caught the rays from the setting sun, illuminating her porcelain face, her pouting, delectable lips forming his name…' Gah! How saccharine." He threw himself back on the bed, a small corner of his mind now avidly devoting itself to the memory of Potter's pouting lips, and insisting that 'delectable' wasn't _that _bad a word to describe them. "This entire scene ought to be taken out and shot. And the whole 'devouring her mouth, thrusting his tongue, filling her with bone-melting, exquisite longing…' I could retch, I really could."

He rolled his eyes, shifting to get beneath the bedclothes. He'd forgotten how arctic the dungeons were at night, even in late summer. Of course, if Harry had been there, they'd be warm. And far less lonely. Snape tried not to think about it, immersing himself in the silly novel. "Well, you're well up on verbs here. 'His hands and mouth were plucking, sucking, biting, pinching, pressing, kissing, licking, squeezing, fondling…' and likely manipulating, handling, slobbering, poking, nibbling, weeding, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, doing arithmetic, yielding unending, breathtaking pleasure, and making me violently ill, as well. 'She climaxed over and over, her body thundering with orgasmic glory, and still she wanted more.' Bit of a trollop, isn't she? Of course, he's no prize either, with his 'grunt of sheer masculine pleasure,' and how her 'sexy, womanly scent had been driving him crazy since the first moment he met her.' This is the trashiest, most puerile, dry-heave-inducing concoction of idiocy I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on."

Severus squirmed, getting comfortable, unaware that there was a small smile on his face. He was enjoying his dissection of the bodice-ripper far more than he probably should. "Hmmm," he said aloud to the empty room, "You know, for all the 'satin covered nipples,' with 'jutting peaks,' the 'rosy aureoles,' not to mention the 'heaving swells of pale flesh,' and 'silken handfuls' of breast, I've yet to see a single male organ. Where are all the 'turgid lengths' and 'throbbing cocks?' I must confess my disappointment. Perhaps the work is too 'soft' for that sort of thing." He grunted with amusement. "I wonder what Potter thought of all this?"

He stopped suddenly, no longer seeing the book. Harry _had _been reading this absurd book. He'd said it was because the 'hero' reminded him of Snape. The Potions Master was still for a long moment before hurriedly whipping the thing round to take a look at the cover. To Severus, there was no real resemblance. The man—Pirate Dan, or whatever his name was—stood with chest bared and thrust out, one hand on his cutlass, his long hair rippling in the wind. It was as dark as Snape's, but not at all greasy, although his skin gleamed as though someone had rubbed oil onto it. The man snorted.

"All right. Let's see how well this waste of time can be adapted. Ahem. 'Kiss me, Severus.' She—no, _he—_strained his face upward. With a grunt of'—oh, let's skip that bit of nonsense…'Harry tried to return his rapacious kisses, but Severus was too fierce and passionate.'" Snape paused, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "I suppose in some alternate universe, it could happen. 'Panting for breath, he rolled them onto their sides, and…_he_…wrapped his leg around the man's hip.' Mm-hmm. '"Harry," he gasped out, waiting until his lashes fluttered open. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll be gentle." His mouth covered…_his_, and he sunk into his body. Giving him time to adjust, Severus laved…' Damn it. The constant 'he' and 'his' makes it confusing. In order to identify each more clearly, I'll have to say 'the boy' or refer to him by name, that's all. Right. So. 'Severus laved Harry's lips with his tongue, gently sucking on the boy's lower lip.' Ah. Much better. So to speak, at any rate. 'It was Harry who changed the pace. "More," he groaned huskily. It was the sexiest sound Severus had ever heard in his life.' I imagine that would actually be rather hard to argue. 'And he gave the boy more, _much_ more. He drove into Harry with strength and voracious power, releasing the boundless love he'd been holding in check.'

Well, now you've gone and ruined it with pointless sentiment, haven't you? And it was just getting good, too. Or marginally better, at any rate." He gave a sigh, reaching for the glass of water he kept at his bedside and taking a sip. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe this is what I'm spending the night doing."

Squirming back under the covers, he tried to get comfortable. Before drifting off, he caught sight of the rakish seaman once more, and couldn't contain a slight smirk. He doubted his body was at all similar to the hero's, but Harry had seen it before, and it hadn't put him off. Besides, however out of practice he might be, he was sure he'd more than satisfy the boy. He'd make certain their initial lovemaking was exceptional. Potter would doubtlessly be amazed.

OoOoOoOoO

"Potter, if I did that, I might as well take over the Defence position, and it hasn't been offered me, nor would I be financially reimbursed for it. It's out of the question."

Harry groaned. "Oh, come on. You don't have to be there every time. Just give me some ideas, and show up once or twice. Please?"

"Absolutely not. Why are you so intent on seeing me jobless and destitute? The headmaster would never allow it, and I simply haven't the _time _for your silly study group. Do you have any idea how much work I have to do on any given day?"

"It's not a _silly study group_," Harry informed him through clenched teeth. "It's serious. I'm glad Remus is back this year, but that doesn't negate the threat to my life, and frankly, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"And I shall be happy to give _you _what assistance I might. The rest of those tiresome little sods can bugger off—or ask Lupin for help, if they like."

The boy looked away suddenly. "All right," he said. "If that's what you want, I'll let it drop."

Snape gave him a suspicious glance. "That was far too easy. What are you up to?"

Harry blinked wide, green eyes at the man. He knew he did ingénue like nobody's business. "Me? Stop being so paranoid. I'm just taking you at your word, that's all."

Snape gave a sniff of disbelief, but didn't bother to argue further. Still, he kept looking at Harry, who was now tapping one foot repeatedly against the leg of his chair. "Will you cease that racket?" the man finally bellowed. "And that chair—bought _specifically _for you, might I add, as a gesture of affection and acceptance—was not inexpensive. I do not appreciate your attempts to dismantle it with the heel of your shoe."

Harry stared. "Jeez, I was barely touching it! Calm down, would you?"

Snape still looked disgruntled. He shifted uncomfortably. "How have your classes with the werewolf been, so far?" he eventually asked.

Harry shrugged. "I've only had the one. It was all right, except that he made me stay after and—can you believe it?—checked my neck for love bites. Just because I was wearing a shirt with a higher collar than normal. _Then _he did _Finite Incantatum, _just in case I was glamouring them so they couldn't be seen."

Snape sighed. "If you don't like it, don't be involved with me," was all he could say.

"It's not that bad," Harry hastened to tell him. "Though I might have lost my temper a bit when I called him a damned headcase who ought to be locked up."

Snape gave yet another sigh, eyeing the clock on the wall. "Perhaps you should return to your rooms," he said. "I have things to attend to."

Harry's shoulders drooped. "All right," he agreed sadly. He gave the man a peck on the cheek as he left. Why couldn't things ever be easy? Why couldn't _Snape _ever be easy? His inner voice replied, _Because then he wouldn't **be **Snape, he'd be Blaise. And I thought you didn't want that. _

Harry grimaced at this logic as he shut the door behind him. _That doesn't mean I'm happy with **never **having sex, _he pointed out furiously, taking no notice that he was, in fact, arguing with himself. _I just wanted it to be with someone special. I wanted it to be with Snape. _

He blew his bangs out of his eyes, taking the dungeon stairs two at a time. _Then you'll have to do it on his time, and on his terms, _he replied rationally.

Harry frowned, wishing he could punch himself and not look stupid. _I really hate you sometimes, _he thought. Then, _Good grief, I'm losing it. I'm really, really losing it. _

OoOoOoOoO

Severus opened the door to Blaise's knock and motioned the boy in, groaning slightly in a put-upon way. "What have you to report?" he intoned.

Blaise gave him a cheeky smile. "Aren't you going to invite me to have a seat?"

"No. Get on with it."

"Very well, I'll have a seat anyway." He did so, crossing his legs at the ankles.

Snape scowled, pacing before the fire. "Well? What is it you wanted to tell me before we were so…before the interruption yesterday afternoon?"

"Before your boyfriend started feeling clingy, you mean?"

Snape didn't deign to answer this.

"Don't worry, I'm not judging. I've been there, after all."

"Just _shut up_," the Potions Master growled, infuriated by the little bastard's reminder that he'd been with Harry, as well. "If you haven't anything important to say, I suggest you leave now, before I stuff you up the fireplace."

The boy gave a soft laugh, not the least intimidated. "Don't get angry. The truth is, I can't blame Harry. You're a very attractive man."

"Get. On. With. It," Snape ordered through clenched teeth.

With a sigh, the younger Slytherin shook his head. "I just wanted to warn you that you are as much a target as Harry."

"I think that's hardly breaking news, Zabini."

"I mean to say that I actually think he's rather focussed on _you,_ at least for the moment. According to what I've found out, the man's becoming obsessed with you. He is enraged that you crossed him, and livid that you seem to have got away with it. The Death Eaters are a bit mutinous these days, and he apparently feels you and your escape have something to do with that."

Snape gave a shrug, although he looked uneasy. "There is little that I can do about that," he muttered.

"Just don't take anything for granted," Blaise advised him. "And don't trust _anyone_."

"Really? Not even you?" the man replied dryly, arching an eyebrow.

The youth smiled slowly, getting to his feet. He prowled over to Severus, invading the man's personal space. He was so much shorter that he had to rise to his tiptoes to get in Severus' face. "Oh, _especially _not me, Professor," he breathed. He cupped Snape's chin in his hand, as the man froze in shocked outrage. "I'd be insulted if you trusted _me._"

Snape shoved the boy away, causing him to stumble. "It's a very good thing I already knew better," he remarked bitterly. "And this time, you stay away from Potter," he ordered.

Blaise adjusted his robes, his lips tight. "I have no interest in Potter," he spat, "frigid little prude that he is."

The man's laugh was low and long. "If that's how you feel, then you'd be doubly disappointed in _me_, Mister Zabini."

Zabini headed for the door, but looked directly into Snape's eyes before closing it behind him. "We'll see about that, Severus Snape."

OoOoOoOoO

"Pay attention, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice reminded him, and Harry looked up quickly, the picture of scholarly interest. The moment she turned her back, he slipped Hermione's note out again.

_Why don't we start the D.A. up again tomorrow afternoon? I can get the word out, and I'm sure a lot of people would be really interested in coming, _It read.

Harry bit his lip. Getting Snape to help was a complete failure, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve where the Potions Master was concerned. Maybe it would be best if the man _didn't _come to the first few, just so he didn't scare anybody away. After glancing up to make sure McGonagall wasn't looking, Harry dipped his quill into the inkbottle.

_All right, then._

He followed her and Ron out of class at the end. "Be careful," he reminded Hermione, "and remember that even if Umbridge wasn't around anymore, I still don't want that Edgecombe chit in class."

Ron nodded at this. "There are probably others who might be trouble, too. After all, the Slytherins are most likely all on Voldemort's side, and might even send someone just to spy on us."

"We can't keep all the Slytherins out just because they're Slytherins," Hermione said sharply. "They might not all be bad, and if even just _one _of them would consider being on Harry's side, we should encourage it."

"That's batty!" Ron said angrily. "If you want to make nice with them, do it somewhere else. The D.A. is too crowded and…and we're all using curses and whatnot—and it would be the perfect opportunity for one of them to off Harry!"

"They wouldn't dare—especially if Snape were there. They'd know they were being watched," she argued.

Harry ducked his head, hurrying to Charms. He hadn't told them that Snape had refused to come. He wasn't sure how to break the news—and besides, he was sure he could change the man's mind…eventually.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was unprepared for the large group that awaited him in the Room of Requirement. He squeezed in through the door, and stopped for a moment, staring, before making his way over to Ron and Hermione.

"Is it just my imagination, or is the room…bigger?" he asked.

"Oh, Harry, don't be such a twit. Of _course _it's bigger," Hermione said with exasperation, barely looking up from the list she was going over. "How on earth would it have fit everyone here, otherwise?"

"Yes, but…just where did all these people _come _from, anyhow? There are a lot more than last time," Harry pointed out.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, you must have noticed both Ginny and Colin were _really excited_," he said. "And since we don't have to keep the whole thing a secret anymore, they got some of their friends, and _they _got some of their friends…you know how Colin gets when he's excited about something, Harry." He cleared his throat a bit before squeaking, _"Harry Potter's teaching it, and he's my best mate and he's a hero and he's a champion Quidditch player and he's the BEST and he's the most handsome bloke in the school and I can't wait for the D.A. to start up again so I can sit and stare vapidly at him and drool and so my heart can explode when he smiles at me!" _

Harry flushed and elbowed Ron in the side. Colin was in the room, too, after all. "Shut _up_," Harry muttered desperately. "And how did you even _say _all that without running out of air and passing out? Anyway, he's not _that _bad."

Colin spotted them, waving at Harry and squirming through the crowd to get to him. "Hiya, Harry!" he exclaimed. "Are we almost ready to start? Oh, my gosh, I'm so excited I couldn't sleep last night so I got up and got out my spell books and went over everything I thought we might need, just in case you wanted me to help out with something—_do _you want me to help out with anything, Harry? I'd be a great help!"

"Oh, yeah, Harry," Ron said sarcastically. "Mine was _way _off. He doesn't sound like that at _all._" Even Hermione was hiding behind her list, though the way her shoulders were shaking seemed to indicate she was giggling.

Harry stared at Colin. "Um. Gee, Colin, I don't know, yet. Maybe we should…maybe we should sort everybody into groups. I'd like to do it by, you know, by how good they are at certain things. Because we're all different years, and some of us are _bound _to be ahead of others. I'm just not sure where to start."

"Let's get everyone seated, and then you can explain," Hermione suggested. "Then Ron and Colin and I can…maybe sort of test them on a few different spells, and divide them up accordingly?"

"Great idea, Hermione," Harry said gratefully. "We'll see if—" He broke off, gaping at the door. "What is _he _doing here?"

"Who?" Hermione craned her neck, trying to see over the students.

"Blaise Zabini," Ron replied, sounding just as disgruntled as Harry. "Why would you invite that whore?"

Hermione frowned at him. "He _is _Head Boy, you know, and besides, I didn't exactly invite him…" she sort of trailed off, muttering.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"I just…told him that the D.A. was starting back up again, and if anyone was really serious about opposing Voldemort, they should come."

"Hermione, you _didn't_," Harry moaned.

"Well, it should be safe enough. Professor Snape will make sure he doesn't do anything."

"Professor Snape's _not coming_," Harry snarled.

"What?" Ron replied. "We were counting on him to keep everyone under control with his looming, swooping and menacing act. What happened?"

Harry looked away. "Nothing," he forced out. "He's just really busy with the start of term. Maybe he'll come once we've settled into it."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have waited before—"

"Hello, lover," a cool voice said loudly.

Harry glared at Blaise. He brought the whistle to his lips, blowing a few short, loud blasts on it. "Right! Everyone sit down and pay attention! This is the first session of the D.A. since Umbridge left, so things are a bit different. As you may have noticed, there are more people who want to be members. Well, before you sign up, I think you ought to know what you're getting into. This group isn't a game, and it's not a place where you can get together and gossip with your friends."

Harry paused, looking at Lavander Brown and Padma Patil, who had the decency to shut their mouths and look a bit embarrassed. "Sorry," they mumbled.

"The D.A. is to help you learn how to fight, and how to defend yourselves. It's not a regular defence lesson, because we have those, now, and I reckon the teacher is a pretty good one. But in here you can brush up on your techniques, and get some real practice. The _point _of this class is that you know what to do if you're ever attacked by a Death Eater, or if you're ever attacked by Voldemort."

A lot of the students winced at the name, but others—like the Creevey brothers—just looked excited and impressed.

"So I'm warning you right now, that if any of you think you'll be joining up with Voldemort, then we don't want you here. And if I ever find out you're on his side—and I _will _find out, because Hermione here knows some really sneaky ways of doing just that—then you'll have made an enemy out of me. Trust me, you don't want me for your enemy. I'm going to make you sign up for this, and if you do, I'll expect you to show up every time, work your hardest, and stay loyal to Dumbledore. If you're not interested in that, then I suggest you leave. We'll have the sign up sheet up front, so after class you can sign up or not. Is that clear?"

He looked around at everyone, but no one said anything. Everyone seemed very serious all of a sudden, and it struck him how much older they all were since the last time they'd tried this. He hoped this time it would really make a difference.

"Right," he said, letting out a breath. "Then welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

**Thanks to:  
**BabyGia103: I'm really glad you're enjoying my stuff, and I've been enjoying your reviews!  
Forgottenfayth: I'm sorry you ran out of story! I'll have another chapter up soon.  
Valanthe: I think it's mostly to build suspense. If you get the good part done quickly, people get bored with the rest of it!  
Aribella: Eee! Yes, I love torturing him, and I love Colin, too. He's my new obsession, so he'll have lots of little cameos. Sooooo cute. And I usually don't go for cute!  
Miki23: Well, I'm glad Ginny is getting under _someone's _skin, because Harry's been pretty oblivious so far, hasn't he? Oh, he knows what she's _doing, _he just doesn't know what to _do _about it.  
Snape's Nightie: Oooo. You _sure _you want that? You wouldn't believe what I've got up my sleeve for next chapter, then…  
Tristheweathewitch: Sorry, the big sister in me tends to do that. My sister _never _got grounded, and look at the stuff she gets herself into! I'm actually not crazy about Shakespeare, other than MacBeth. I'm particularly not fond of Romeo and Juliet. I always felt like the great tragedy about it was that their families didn't realize that they'd get over each other in a couple of weeks if left alone. Come on, Romeo was seeing someone when he met her, and was like, twice her age. He'd have gotten bored fast. She was _fifteen. _She would have moved on. Sheesh. Um. Done with my irrelevant tangent, now! ; )  
Sbyamibakura: Well, death by UST _would _be a fairly original plot, but unfortunately, they'll have other, larger problems!  
Chantelli: Hee! I know exactly what you mean. Do you know how often I stumble into the kitchen, chanting 'Coffee. I need sweet, life-giving coffee,' to my roomie?  
Fairchilde: Thanks! Is he genuine? Is he the spy? _Whose _spy? Sev's, Dumbledore's, or Voldemort's? Voldemort is definitely going to keep his hand in…  
Johnnydoggspitt: I'm pretty sure Harry will be more than happy to give Snape some better memories. That's only if Snape doesn't let his pride get in the way of being taught, of course!  
Klondike Bar: And I get so happy whenever you review! ; )  
Sweet Mercy: Hmm. When I was in high school, we said 'sneaky.' Everything we liked was sneaky. I love words. I love making them work overtime! Yeah, Blaise and Sev are definitely up to something, and hopefully it will become clearer soon.  
Qem: Well, I'm not a huge fan of Shakespeare's sonnets, but I do have Alan Rickman doing 'My Mistress' Eyes' and it's awfully good. I'd like to hear him do a bit of Yeats or Frost, or Neruda, myself…  
Lillyseyes: Despite popular belief, Blaise is not the root of all evil! ; ) He is the root of _some _evil, though, and he'll do his best to shake things up.  
Lotrox: Oh, he will! He's always working on it. They'll be getting into mischief next chapter, for sure.  
Jenonymous: I love big words. That's one of the reasons I enjoy writing Snape so much. The contest was certainly _Blaise _preparing for the attack, though I won't say whether the rest of the Slytherins had foreknowledge. There'll be lots more Ginny and Colin, though probably not together.  
CortneyK: (laughs) He really does, doesn't he? That's why we love the old grouch.  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: Hee! I always tack on an adjective to the first person to review. I think Blaise is probably well known for his discretion. I definitely think Snape will have to learn the Patronus spell in private. Nothing that makes him happy is appropriate for public places, I'm sure!  
And the Perpetual Purplepaper: And more there shall be! (feeds the obsession)


	9. Captivating Kisses, Killer Confrontation

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Nine  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**NOTES**: A catfight for Silvarbelle.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry inveigles Severus to help him out, and Snape has a showdown with Remus at high noon outside the saloon. Or in the evening in the staff room. Take your pick.

**Chapter Nine: Captivating Kisses and Killer Confrontations**

Harry was exhausted. The D.A. meeting had lasted almost two hours, and he'd done more walking and talking and demonstrating than he would have believed. Colin had insisted he was having trouble with _Impedimentia, _and Harry'd had to show him over and over again. Finally he'd ended up just grabbing Colin's hand and directing the movement himself; it was a lot quicker and easier than trying to put it into words, although it also caused Colin to break out in a series of squeaky giggles.

Harry fell onto his bed, thinking of Severus. He had to get the man to help him with the D.A. He just couldn't _do _it on his own.

Ron let out a muffled grunt as he, too, flopped down on his bed, still clothed and already beginning to snore. He'd done as much work as Harry—maybe more. No doubt Hermione was worn out, as well. It was so hard with just the three of them—no one listened half the time, or took them seriously.

Harry began to formulate a plan to get Snape to go along with things. He grinned. It _mightn't _work, but hopefully it would be sneaky enough. It was worth a try, at any rate. Now, if he could just get rid of Blaise…

In Potions the next day, Harry stayed after long enough to whisper, "I love you. See you later," to Snape. He waited long enough to watch the man roll his eyes and nod reluctantly. Harry hid his smile, blowing Severus a kiss goodbye.

Merlin, the man was hot when he glared like that.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape turned the page of the book he was reading. He was absolutely absorbed and didn't notice the noise right away. After a few minutes, though, the sound had grown in volume, and he looked up, aggravated. Giggling. Talking. Shouting. _Inconsiderate bastards, _he thought. _What the bollocks are they doing right outside my only window?_

It _was _his only window, set high in the dungeon wall, allowing a small semi-circle of dim light into his library. He finally got up and walked over to it, squinting through the dusty glass. It looked like a group of students. After a moment, he tapped on it loudly. There was no effect on the crowd of pitiless revellers. He knocked louder. Nothing. Infuriated, Severus cast _Sonorus _on his throat and yelled, "YOU OUT THERE! YOU BAND OF MERRY MENTAL DEFECTIVES! KNOCK OFF THAT BLOODY RACKET!"

There was a long, lovely moment of silence, and then a burst of cacophonous laughter.

Severus marched out onto the grounds, cursing a God that would allow the sun to shine with such blissful brightness on a man swathed head to foot in black. It never occurred to him that he could simply wear something else. The sun shone, and Severus Snape wore black. That was simply the natural, unalterable state of the universe. On the whole, he felt it far more likely that the sun should behave differently before he chose different clothing. After all, there were _clouds, _weren't there? Couldn't the sun just try on a few of those?

He muttered furiously to himself, wondering why the hell the world had to be such an obnoxious place. Potter was probably behind it all. And God help him, Severus would probably end up being _nice _to the nuisance. Snape wasn't sure where this odd desire to put the brat before himself came from, but it seemed to be overtaking him more and more often lately.

Stopping, Snape shielded his eyes from the brilliant glare of the late summer sunshine, peering about. There. By that tree. He couldn't see _Harry, _per se, but there were a couple of red heads and a bushy one, as well, and those were unmistakeable.

As Severus neared the motley group, his feet slowed reluctantly. Harry was lounging beside Colin Creevey, a book in one hand and a golden apple in the other. He was also shirtless. That Weasley wench was present, as well, newly sprouted knockers erupting from her dress. Snape bit his tongue hard and held it.

"Snape? Hey!" Harry jumped to his feet, his face surprised and frustratingly happy. "Did you need something?"

"Is there a reason the lot of you are gathered about here, trying to break the school's decibel record?"

Harry seemed to think this over, tilting his head to the side, his vacant eyes directed at parts unknown. "Well…no, I guess not…" he said slowly.

Severus was riveted by one shining drop of sweat that fell from the youth's face, landing on his collarbone, suspended for one long moment before slipping down the slim chest. "Erk," the man announced eloquently.

"Huh?"

"Put your shirt on. You'll catch your death like that."

"But Professor, the temperature is on the high side today," Hermione said, puzzled.

"Of _heatstroke,_ I was about to finish before being rudely interrupted," Severus managed. He felt inordinately proud of himself for being so articulate in the face of such lickable adversity.

"Oh, I have grass stains on my shirt, I can't possibly wear it," Harry informed him with such false innocence that it wasn't even amusing.

Snape scowled. "Very well, then," he grumbled. "Potter. I want you inside. Now. The rest of you—bugger off and stay out of my way. You've provoked me enough for one day, and if you bother me again you'll find detention is NOT just for Boys Who Lived."

Harry drifted behind the man, deigning to give him a beatific smile whenever the man glanced over his shoulder.

As they entered the Potions Master's quarters, Snape rounded on Harry, pegging the boy with one anthracite eye. "What the devil do you think you're doing, running around half-dressed?" he demanded

Harry blinked. Shrugging slightly, he answered, "Well, it's probably one of the few nice days left that I'd have a chance to sit outside after class, and I wanted a bit of a tan. I don't want to end up all pasty, that's all."

Severus sniffed. "Potter, you're _British. _Trust me, you're doomed to a lifetime of pasty-skinned ignominy."

Harry just laughed, draping himself into his chair like a decorative chenille throw. Looking suddenly shy, the boy smiled just a little, and shrugged, his shoulders curling in. Severus shuddered. It was outrageously unfair that such a torrent of sweetness and innocence and unabashed sensuality could be bottled up in such a perfect package. It smacked of a prayer answered, and Severus didn't hold with such nonsense as Gods or religious fervour.

Harry sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a moment, and it emerged from between his teeth glossy and reddened. He reached one hand out, beckoning for the Potions Master to come closer.

For a moment, Severus Snape _did _believe in God.

Then Harry pulled him down into a gentle, wet kiss, and Severus Snape believed in Harry. Who was much more of a devil than a God, when Severus thought about it. Still, running his hands over that narrow, warm body was delightful, and the way Harry kept pulling him closer was extraordinarily gratifying. Severus had had few people that ever wanted to be close to him, let alone closer.

Eventually, the man pulled away with a sigh. "You are incorrigible, Mister Potter," he muttered, weaving thin fingers through the youth's unruly hair. He managed to retreat to his own chair, where he sat down heavily.

Harry followed immediately, scooting himself onto Severus' lap.

"I got you your own chair so that you wouldn't feel the need to plonk yourself down on me whenever you wished to sit. I may be many things, Potter, but I am not furniture."

Harry beamed, placing both hands on Severus' face. "I," he announced loudly, "adore you, you cynical old crab."

Snape smiled despite himself. "I'd trade you for a tin Sickle, sentimental simpleton," he replied dryly.

"Oh, really? Then why doesn't Voldemort own me right now?"

"He hasn't offered me a tin Sickle."

Harry wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out.

"Though if you want the truth," the man added in a dark voice, "the main reason I've not turned you over to the Dark Lord and basked in the glory of having done so is that you're _mine_, and I don't share."

Harry's eyes slid shut, and he wriggled closer to Snape, causing the man to feel a flicker of lust deep in his belly. "You don't play well with others, either," Harry pointed out, his lips against Snape's jaw. "And your patience is non-existent. So much for manners, huh?"

Severus dug his hand into the boy's hair, both cradling it and keeping it in position. "Mmm. And what about your manners, brat? What do you call hooting and hollering outside someone's window? What do you call barging into their rooms whenever you please? What do you call crawling all over them like Mount Everest?"

Harry chuckled. "Foreplay?"

Snape locked his mouth on the boy's, thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth. He shivered when the youth moaned loudly, hands scrabbling for purchase in the Potions Master's robes.

He broke off long enough to kiss the boy's neck, and Harry gasped. "Severus?" he said, his voice low and needy. "Will you…please help me with the D.A.? Please?"

The man pulled away, astounded. "Not that again! Potter…" Harry derailed his train of thought by raising one of Snape's hands to his mouth and sucking lightly on the tip of his finger. The man felt a rush of blood to his crotch, and he swallowed hard. "We'll see, all right?" he said. "Please stop that."

Harry looked disappointed, but let go of the finger. "Okay. Now will you help me? Pretty please? With sugar and a cherry on top? Or vinegar, if you prefer?"

Snape held his tongue, resolutely _not _replying that what he craved was a generous helping of Harry. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth, because it was the only halfway safe thing he could think to say.

Harry grinned broadly, before wrapping his arms around the man and giving him a quick succession of love bites up and down the neck. "Thanks!" he exclaimed.

"You should go," Snape groaned. _Before I come, _he added silently.

"All right." Harry got to his feet and headed out, looking pleased with himself.

"Potter…did you plan that?"

Harry looked over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Plan what?"

"Never mind."

"See you later, Snapie-pie."

"DON'T YOU DARE START CALLING ME THAT!" Snape bellowed.

"Oooooh, touchy. Fine, be that way. 'Bye, tiger," Harry called from the doorway.

Snape did his best to ignore his quickly developing headache, and went to pour himself a drink.

OoOoOoOoO

"You know, Harry, I've been talking with the other Quidditch players, and we think you'd make a brilliant captain," Ginny announced, perched beside Harry on the arm of his chair. He and Ron were trying to play Wizard's Chess, but he'd never win with this sort of interruption going on.

Harry gaped at her. "But…what about Ron? I mean, I'm flattered that you'd think of me, but Ron's really been a steadier player, especially lately."

Ginny shrugged. "Ron's distracted. His mind's always on Hermione."

"Well, _my _mind is always on Snape, you know?"

For a moment, Ginny's eyes narrowed. Then she smiled sweetly. "Of course, but you don't want to be _clingy, _do you? I don't know about men, but from a _woman's _perspective, there's nothing worse than a bloke who doesn't have any interest outside of the girl he's with. It's suffocating. And creepy."

Harry squirmed in his seat. Part of him recognized what Ginny was trying to do, but another part thought she might be right. It _would _be good to have something to take his mind off Snape when the man needed breathing room, and it would be even _better _to have something to take his mind off Voldemort.

"I wasn't really even all that into Quidditch last year," he pointed out. "I had too many other things on my mind."

Ginny patted his shoulder. "I understand," she told him. "But the thing is, you've got a real take-charge personality, and the other players look up to you. We'd really appreciate it if you gave it a go."

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was glumly poking at pawn. "Ron? What d'you reckon?"

Ron shrugged. "Up to you, mate. I say go for it. Why not?" He offered Harry a rather strained smile.

Turning back to Ginny, Harry shrugged again. "I'll think about it."

OoOoOoOoO

Severus was striding into the staff room when he became aware of the werewolf's presence. It brought him up short, and he paused almost awkwardly before closing the door behind him. Lupin was seated at the table, a pile of books nearby. Snape took a moment to gather his thoughts, dignity, and robes. He made sure they completely concealed any lingering evidence of his body's unfortunate reaction to a half-naked Harry.

"Hello, vicious monster currently on staff," he said nonchalantly, breezing past the man on the way to the teakettle.

"Hello, unapologetic child molester," Lupin responded calmly, marking a paper.

Snape froze, furious. "What did you just call me?"

"Hmm? I believe I called you a paedophile," Remus replied coldly, meeting the man's eyes.

Snape was shocked. This was hardly the wet werewolf he knew and…hated. After a few moments, he realized he was shaking—with anger or some other more foreign emotion, he wasn't certain. "I'll have you know that your opinion matters not one whit to me, and you may call me any damned name you please. Although, if I were to reflect on it, I'd have to express my lack of surprise at the fact that you've not grown out of name-calling. Snivellus, paedophile—it's all the same to me."

"I never called you that," the werewolf replied quietly, although his eyes dropped back to his papers.

Snape banged the tea set around, noisily serving himself, refusing to retreat to his dungeons. He had as much right as anyone to enjoy the staff room, idiot infested dump that it was. "And yet you've the gall to equate my entirely sexless relationship with Potter—at seventeen years old—to child molestation?" he suddenly snarled, rounding on the man.

Remus shook his head, slamming his quill down and standing to face the man. "I just can't condone it. You're twice his age, you're _male, _and you—and you—" The Defence professor took a deep breath. "I don't think you'd have anything to do with the boy, except you're getting revenge on James."

Snape was flabbergasted. His cup fell from nerveless fingers, shattering on the floor, splashing his feet with hot tea. "_WHAT? _Are you out of your bleeding _mind? _How the HELL is this a satisfying revenge—knowing that whatever James could hold over me, whatever he'd bested me at, Harry has managed so much more? That brat _owns _me. He's taken over my ruddy _life. _Believe me, if I wanted revenge on that bastard, there are far better ways I could think to do it than by falling in love with his son. For my money, it's more appropriate to say James has gotten _his _revenge on _me._"

Snape was pacing, gesticulating, wild-eyed and angry.

Lupin scowled, an action completely out of character for him, and one that went unnoticed by his colleague. "If you really loved him, you'd let him the hell alone," he said quietly.

Snape halted. "Don't you tell me what I should or shouldn't do. It's none of your business."

"Harry's welfare is very much my business!"

Severus moved until his nose was centimetres from the werewolf's. "You _hypocrite. _The only reason you object to my romance with Potter is out of sheer petty envy."

"_Envy?_" Lupin repeated incredulously.

"Oh, yes. You're bitter, because in your cowardice, you never told Black how you felt, and now you've lost the chance. Well, he's _dead, _Lupin. Dead and gone, and now you want to bury Harry's future in lieu of your own."

"How _dare _you!" Remus whipped out his wand, and Snape quickly followed.

In the wake of a series of loud blasts, Professor Flitwick rushed to the scene to find two of Hogwarts' finest teachers, one suspended upside down in a giant soap bubble, and the other pinned to the wall by his ears.

After a good talking-to and some careful hex removing on the Charms teacher's part, his co-workers were free of their restraints.

"Now, no more of this nonsense!" he squeaked. "Severus, you go down to your dungeons, and I'll escort Remus to his room. I'm afraid I'll have to inform the headmaster about this," he added reproachfully.

"Very well," Snape replied coolly, dusting himself off. "Lupin, I've just one thing to say, and I suggest you think on it. If I had _really _wanted to avenge myself on James, wouldn't the boy be despoiled, degraded, used beyond recognition, and sitting at the Dark Lord's feet right now? I've no doubt that my infatuation for Harry would annoy James, but I should think enslaving and destroying the child would be a more likely avenue of breaking the man's heart."

Remus blinked at him, and Severus whirled, sweeping out of the room.

**Thanks to:  
**Eagle-Eyes: Ah, ah, ah! Not everything is always as it appears!  
Im-a-daydream-believer: You'd think, but he'd probably also resent being asked to do it unofficially, getting no recognition. I think it would gnaw at him. And be nice to Blaise! We'll need him, later.  
Chantilli: Aw, thanks! StarryGazer; making Fridays better since 1977.  
Sbyamibakura: I don't know Inuyasha, actually. That's not the guy with the fox ears, is it? My anime intake is strictly limited to Get Backers and Mirage of Blaze, and Fake, too.  
Lutheyl: Thanks! That bit was a lot of fun to write.  
Aribella: Nope. Sorry, I'm sticking with my original assessment; Colin is a cutie. Mostly I love his one cut scene from the movie, which totally made me re-evaluate his character. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I used to daydream about a guy who loved me so much he would read a romance novel like that. Hee hee!  
BabeGia103: Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked Larger Problems, too. I tend to get silly sometimes. I'll have another story or two on there soon.  
Johnnydoggspitt: Would I do that to you? Besides, Blaise is there for completely different reasons. Well, not _completely _different…  
Purplepaper: Well, aren't you clever? Blaise is about to REALLY stick his fingers in the pie, which should be interesting…and then we'll start getting some insight!  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: _That's _how Harry convinces Sev. Slytherin of him, no?  
Lotrox: Glad to cheer you up! Anytime at all…as long as I've _had _the time, that is.  
Fairchilde: Blaise Zabini: Man of Mystery. He's there for dissention for now, and he'll be a real asset later, instead of just a pain in the asset. Oh, plenty of Harry/Sev action coming right up!  
Klondike Bar: Yeah, but he's so _pretty. _Or at least I picture him as being pretty. For a slightly evil guy, I'm rather fond of Blaise. He's the bloke you love to hate!  
And the Justifiable jenonymous: Mwahahaha! My plan to educate is working! My beta and I discussed that word, and I explained that I wanted people to look it up. Next up, we get drills on how to spell 'summary' (note the 'a' as opposed to 'e') 'lose' as opposed to 'loose.' Hee! Anyhow, I love how forward Blaise is. He's fun to write, because he sets people's teeth on edge. Snape would be _horrified _to know anyone knew about his rendition of Captain Snape deflowering his captive darling, no doubt. And thanks for reviewing my other stuff; it means a lot to me!


	10. Leadership Skills are for Suckers

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Ten  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry gets conscripted for a new role, and poor Snape never quite gets what he wants.

**Chapter Ten: Leadership Skills are for Suckers**

Harry wiped his hands on his robes, looking nervously around at the Quidditch hopefuls gathered on the Pitch. "So…uh…I'm not really sure how to do this," he confessed. "Ginny suggested I try out for Captain of the Quidditch team, but right now we have people competing for regular positions, too. It doesn't seem fair to me to just name me as Quidditch Captain without taking a vote, but it doesn't seem right to vote before filling the other positions, either."

It was true; after Katie Bell had graduated, Harry was the only remaining member of the team that had been formed six years ago, leaving him feeling his age. There was Ron as Keeper and Ginny as a Chaser, but they needed new Beaters and two more Chasers as well.

"Could we see what everyone's got, make a decision on that first, and _then _vote in a Captain?" Ron suggested.

Harry sagged in relief. Ron had been acting really odd lately—sort of quiet and cross, but unwilling to talk it out, so Harry was grateful he was talking again. "Great, yeah, let's do that," Harry said, nodding vigorously.

Ginny looked slightly irritated for a moment, but then seemed to shrug off whatever was bothering her. "All right. Well, why don't you guys show us your moves?" she asked the aspirants. "Form a queue here, and we'll start with everyone taking a go at Ron. Then we'll have each of you taking a turn beating off a bludger. And we'll have a look at your speed, too."

Watching, Harry was dead impressed with Ginny's no-nonsense approach to the tryouts, and privately wondered whether she wouldn't be a better Captain. The kids lined up, broomsticks in hands, and the rest of the team positioned themselves. Colin Creevey was first up, looking like he was about to burst from enthusiasm. Harry watched from the ground, Ginny sat on her broom a few feet away from Ron, and Ron just watched them come.

Colin mounted his broom and shot up into the air, a Quaffle tucked under his arm. Harry marvelled at the speed the boy achieved, although he had to wince when Colin went to throw the Quaffle at Ron, braked hard, and nearly fell off his broom. His throw didn't have much behind it, either, and didn't get near the Keeper before plummeting earthward.

The other candidates weren't much better, and each time a beater's bat swung and connected with nothing but air, or a Quaffle missed the goal, Harry's stomach tightened. He was starting to think the season was a loss, and it hadn't even started yet.

Finally, when the tryouts ended, Harry got together with the rest of the team to confer. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "They're _all _bloody awful!"

"They're not _that _bad," Ginny argued. "Ron was worse in his first season. They're just nervous. Who do we know for sure we don't want?"

"O'Malley's no good," Ron said promptly. "I know he's Seamus' cousin, but he's way too clumsy. I don't think it was just nerves, either; I saw him dump an entire pitcher of orange juice all over Lavender Brown at breakfast the other day."

"Not him, then," Harry agreed. "What about Colin?"

"Absolutely not," Ginny said with conviction. "You saw him; he could barely _lift _the Quaffle."

"He was fast, though," Ron said.

"Yeah…" Harry pondered it a few moments. What he really thought was that Colin would make an ideal Seeker, but he wasn't prepared to give up the position. "I think he'll get better with time," he said tentatively. "He just needs practice, patience, and a good workout every day."

Ginny glowered at him, but the rest of the team voted her down. Colin stayed.

"Oh, my gosh, this is so great! Now we'll be able to spend even _more _time together, Harry!" Colin squealed when the new roster was revealed.

Trying not to cringe, Harry stuck his hand out and allowed Colin to…well, shake it, he supposed, although it seemed more like the bouncy blond was merely holding onto it with both of his and hopping up and down excitedly. "Yeah, congratulations," he managed to say stoically.

Ginny locked eyes with him, and her expression said everything necessary. _I told you so! _Harry looked back at Colin, thinking of all the extra time and effort he'd have to spend training him. It was going to be a long season.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus stood regally at the front of the room, relishing the silence. Something like forty-two pairs of eyes (all right, _exactly _forty-two pairs of eyes, but he really hadn't intended to count them) stared back at him. He watched Potter stammer and stutter and try to explain things.

"Soo-oooo, he won't be here _every _time, but he'll be here now and again to help out," the boy finished lamely. He fidgeted a little, and Snape fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

Applause burst out from the vicinity of the Creevey brat, spreading feebly around the room. The mousy little monster said, "Spiffing! Only Harry could have done something like that—gotten Snape the Scary to help out. Isn't Harry amazing?"

This time, Snape _did _roll his eyes. Most of the rest of the class seemed remarkably cowed, shifting from one foot to the other, muttering a little, and not meeting the instructor's eyes. "Is this all they do?" he couldn't help sniping at Potter. "Stand about and give themselves over to the throes of adolescent awkwardness? It's like a truly pathetic tea social, without the tea and very little of the social."

"I think you're making them nervous," Harry told him in a stage whisper.

"Well, _good. _If they ever _do _end up having to either fire off curses or dredge up decent shielding spells, they'll not be doing it in Aunt Saphronia's parlour during elevenses. They'll be doing it whilst facing men like Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, and likely wetting themselves simultaneously."

"Well, then it's good you're here, adding to the realism, because I'm nearly certain poor Neville wet himself the moment you walked in the door. And what are you on about—facing Malfoy? Malfoy deserted, didn't he?"

Snape hesitated, swallowing. "Apparently not, Mister Potter. Lord of the Angst, 'I've-Lost-My-Darling-Son-and-Only-Heir' Malfoy was, it seems, not as concerned with that particular loss as he'd have had us believe, and is once again at the Dark Lord's side."

Little whispering hisses erupted from the rest of the students, but both Harry and Severus ignored them. "What? He—went back to Voldemort? Really? When? That _bastard!_" Harry finished up, shaking his head a little.

"He went back to the Dark Lord, yes, yes, sometime last summer, and I concur, in that order," Severus replied with a sneer. "Now, shall we get this party started?" He rounded on the class. "Queue up!" he barked. "I'm going to hit you with _Incarcerous_, and you're each going to try to stop me. If you manage it, you get a point for your house, and that disgustingly warm and squishy feeling inside that comes from not having arsed it up."

"Wait a second!" Harry interrupted with a frown, and Severus turned on his heel to glare daggers at the boy. "Well—I mean—all right, but why that spell? I'd thought since this was your first class, we might try working on the Patronus spell, and…uh…." Harry stumbled to a halt, apparently deciding, after watching the man turn puce, that he'd made a tactical error.

"We shall work on _Incarcerous _because if a Death Eater captures you and wants to keep you alive, and wants to _question _you, this is the spell he or she will use. Unlike a full body bind or any sort of petrification, it still allows the _mouth _to work. It's a favourite for the…less _important _captives, you understand? We'd merely work a killing curse if someone were in our way, or something relatively painful if we were looking for vengeance, but for the rabble that makes up this class, _Incarcerous _would most likely do."

Harry swallowed. Severus could see the wheels turning, and by the tense silence pervading the room, Harry wasn't the only one to have worked it out. Severus spoke from experience, and he wasn't sugar-coating things.

"Right," Harry croaked after a minute or so. "Right. _Incarcerous. _That's…helpful. Thank you, Professor Snape. Queue up, everyone."

"Tally ho!" Colin added cheerfully, and was first in line. Snape didn't know whether to be annoyed or grateful. At least it distracted everyone from himself, and it got them moving.

Thick cords sprung from the man's wand, wrapping securely around the boy and tripping him up; he fell to the floor with a satisfying 'thunk.' "Next!" Snape called, his own voice as close to cheerful as it ever got. This was turning out to be almost…fun.

Parvati stepped up, managing a mild bloating hex before being felled. Severus wasn't impressed. "Petty teenaged retribution for having stolen one's beau is hardly the appropriate training for facing the Dark Lord, girl," he noted acidly.

She writhed on the floor, legs kicking against her bonds, until That Damned Granger (as Severus had recently taken to calling her within the confines of his mind) had mercy and performed the counter-spell.

They lined up to fall, one by one. Surprisingly, of the few who were any good at all, Neville Longbottom actually managed to avoid getting hit. For one thing, he leapt quite un-athletically to the side, and at the same time fired off _Serpentsortia, _which kept Severus distracted until the boy had scampered away to the end of the line. Snape didn't say so, but he was mildly impressed.

Harry, of course, hit Severus with an Itching Curse before the man could lift his wand, and then gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that."

"You're an idiot. I must have taught you at least fifteen damaging-but-not-lethal spells made for just such an occasion last year, and _this _is what you give me?" he griped, digging his nails into the back of his neck. "If you could be killed and still allowed to come back to life after having learnt your lesson, I'd have broken you into at least ten pieces by now. And perhaps sold them to the more devout believers as holy relics for a bit of extra cash."

That Damned Granger got by entirely unscathed, and Weasley managed a passable Hemorrhaging Hex, but most of the rest of the students were pants at it. Abbott almost got away, but he'd nailed her in the end, that odd little Slytherin—John, or was it Jack?—went down quickly, making snappy comments about bondage, and then…then came Zabini.

"Ooooh," the irritant cooed, making a show of pursing his lips at Severus. "Don't point that thing at me unless you're prepared to use it!"

Evidently, he wasn't prepared for the _Crucio _Severus inflicted on him.

Once the youth's screams of pain had reached an adequate volume, Severus halted the curse abruptly.

"Don't you _ever _treat this as a game, boy," he growled.

OoOoOoOoO

"That was…a bit much, don't you think?" Harry asked breathlessly. He'd followed the man down to his rooms, and Severus had taken the stairs two at a time, his face set in an unreadable expression.

"Oh, _really, _pet?" the Potions Master turned to snarl at him. "Do you think that, once the Death Eaters have got their hands on the boy, have tortured him right to the brink of psychosis, someone like Antonin Dolohov will turn to the others and say, 'Gosh, mates, it's all a bit much, don't you think?' Is that really what you're proposing?"

Harry frantically shook his head. "No! Just…no. I just—never mind. It just adds a whole new dimension of tension and terror when you're attending the D.A. meetings, that's all. Never a dull moment, eh?" Harry looked down at his legs, which were shaking, and made his way over to his chair.

Snape poured himself a snifter of brandy, considered it for a moment, and poured Potter one as well. "Here," he muttered, nudging the boy with it. "I suspect you need this as much as I do." He watched speculatively as Harry gulped at it, made a face, and then gulped at it again. "If you insist on drinking it that way, I'm going to start procuring the really cheap stuff," he warned the lad.

"All right," Harry said tonelessly.

Severus felt misgivings stirring, and sat beside the youth. "I realize that the lesson was not a pleasant one, but the fact of the matter is that, if ever they should really find themselves facing a Death Eater, it _will _be anything but a pleasant experience. Most of their previous teachers were worthless, and Lupin coddled them to a horrifying degree. They need to learn, and quickly."

"I know!" Harry suddenly yelped, slamming his drink down on the table so that it sloshed over the rim. He leapt to his feet, pacing furiously, hand sweeping repeatedly through his wild hair. "Don't you think I know that? But I hate seeing it! I hate knowing that someone _would _do that to them. I hate that they have to learn it. I wish they didn't have to know."

"I understand. I'd protect you as well, if I could."

"You do realize that slag Zabini could go straight off to Dumbledore and have you sacked?" Harry demanded, turning to pierce the man with an angry look.

"He will not. He assuredly will not."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Severus heaved a sigh. "I apologize if I offended your delicate sensibilities," he said, changing the subject.

Harry snorted. "You can make it up to me in the bedroom," he suggested.

Snape merely smirked. "Still, I have to admit," he said after a length of time had passed, "it _was _deuced gratifying to see that harlot flat on his back and shrieking—not that he isn't often."

Harry attempted to give him a disapproving look over the rim of his glass. "Don't be such a sadist," he said primly.

"I can't help it. It's in my nature. Besides," he added darkly, "it's not as though it's something he hasn't felt before or won't feel again. Believe me, you don't get sorted into Slytherin without knowing all about the taste of pain."

Harry frowned, sloshing his drink around. "That's going to stop," he murmured. "I don't know how, but that's messed up, and it's going to have to stop."

Severus was unconvinced. "Perhaps."

OoOoOoOoO

"Correct, Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," Snape spat unhappily.

Hermione beamed, and Harry managed to give her a half smile, although he sort of felt bad for Professor Snape. Since Draco had died, none of the Slytherins were any good in Potions, and Hermione seemed to outclass everyone. He was sure it irritated the man to see Gryffindor doing so well.

Draco Malfoy seemed to float to the forefront of Harry's mind, and the youth swallowed hard. There had been too many deaths—Cedric's, Sirius', Draco's…and more seemed imminent. Worse, Harry often forgot to be unhappy about them, and it seemed wrong—a betrayal of Sirius, especially—to be happy with his own life when they had none.

"Stop wandering off and playing with the unicorns and sparkly things in your head," Snape snapped. "Pay attention to your Perplexing Potion."

Harry snapped back to the present, realizing just in time that he was about to add a handful of porcupine quills before the banshee tears. Exhaling, he set them back down, managing a small smile to quell the Rising Eyebrow of Concern that Snape was giving him.

"Parkinson, we'll test yours, since you're inexplicably the first finished," the man said. He examined it minutely, holding up a vial and tilting it in the dungeon light. "It looks correct," he muttered reluctantly. "Regrettably, the headmaster has issued a new directive this year prohibiting me from forcing you to drink your own disasters, so I'm doomed to the fate of the test subject. Granger, if anything untoward should happen to me, you are to use my Floo to contact Madam Pomfrey immediately."

Hermione nodded apprehensively, and the class collectively leaned forward and watched the professor swallow the lot. There was a great intake of breath, which was slowly let out as catastrophe failed to occur.

"Thank Merlin," Harry said under his breath.

"Well, I'm perplexed by the lack of perplexity I'm feeling, if that's anything at all," Severus said, shoulders drooping in either disappointment or relief. "Still, as I appear not to have grown any extra appendages, developed the ability to charm small children, or exploded spectacularly, you seem to not have made too big a pig's ear out of it. Well done, Miss Parkinson. Six points for Slytherin."

Pansy beamed.

"Six!" Hermione blurted. "You only gave me five, and I answered _correctly!_"

"That's three points from Gryffindor for impugning my infallible judgment," he retorted. "Class dismissed."

Snape gave Harry a look—the one that said he was in his element and content with the world, and that he wanted to grab Harry and snog him before this changed. Harry knew that'd have to wait until later, but he was still grinning when he left for his next class.

Out in the hallway, Hermione threw a sharp elbow to his ribs. "Will you stop simpering like an idiot?" she demanded. "And just for future reference, your boyfriend is a real berk."

Harry laughed at her. "Yeah, I know. Comes from thinking he knows everything," he couldn't resist adding. Hermione gave him a suspicious look, but didn't say anything.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape paced in his study, pausing occasionally to sip a glass of cognac. It felt good, warm and familiar as it slid down his throat. He'd been trying to work up the schedule for the next week, but had found himself unable to concentrate. His head seemed to be spinning a bit, and he thought this vaguely trying, but ignored it in favour of concentrating on his drink, which was likely the cause of the problem.

Harry was late. Severus wasn't certain why that fact wound him up so, but it did. It had been a day with more pros than cons—he'd doled out more points to Slytherin than were genuinely warranted, Blaise Zabini was now avoiding him, he'd managed to nettle That Damned Granger, and Harry had given him a number of lascivious looks in class—and Snape had hoped to celebrate.

With the boy, of course—and an abundant supply of alcohol. He was also hoping to avoid the headmaster, Lupin, and the rest of the staff, and evade any references to Harry's friends, particularly—

A knock finally sounded at his door, interrupting Severus' musing. "Come in," he called out. His voice sounded a bit off, even to himself.

"Severus?" Harry poked an inquisitive head round the door, his eyes bright and his hair dishevelled. He had a smear of ink across the bridge of his nose, and Snape thought the youth had never looked so appealing.

"Here, boy," he said, sinking into his chair. "Would you care to join me in an evening libation?"

Harry grinned, shutting the door behind him. "Would I!" He hurried over to Snape, climbing onto the man and straddling his lap. Chapped lips were pressed adoringly to Snape's, and the boy tickled the seam of the man's mouth with his tongue.

Severus moaned softly, trying not to let his glass tip. Eventually he pulled away. "You don't have the foggiest notion of what a libation is, do you?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever it is, it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, particularly if it can be done with me in your lap."

The man gave him a lazy smile, his fingers creeping over Harry's rumpled clothing. "It means, informally, an intoxicating beverage, or the act of drinking an intoxicating beverage, you endearing little bugger."

Harry frowned, leaning back a bit. "Oh! I thought it was some sort of semi-legal, kinky kind of thing," he replied. "Pity."

"Indeed. But if it _is _deviant that you're hoping for, I could probably oblige." The man deftly gave one of Harry's nipples a twist through his robes, causing the boy to jump.

"Whoa! I—wait—what?" Harry swallowed. "Are you seriously suggesting we…um…_you know, _after all this insistence on waiting?"

Snape gave him a scathing look, taking another long drink. "For heaven's sake, Potter," he growled after lowering the glass, "have the maturity to actually _say _it, would you? I don't care what you call it—having sex, fucking, shagging, screwing, the nauseatingly euphemistic 'making love,' just call it _something._"

Harry blinked. "Ah…right. Sex, then. We…you…want to have…sex?" he inquired, his expression both hopeful and puzzled.

"I've _wanted _to have sex with you for a good year now. I'm merely _acting _on the desire tonight. Do you have any idea how long a year is?" he asked wistfully, the tips of his fingers brushing the boy's jaw. "Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred and twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one _million _five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds that I have refrained from _making you mine._ I'm sick of waiting. I want you _now."_

Harry shuddered happily. "Ohmygosh, letmegetundressedbeforeyouchangeyourmind," he rushed out, shucking his shirt. He let out a whine of pleasure as the man leaned forward and snaked a tongue over Harry's collarbone. "Oh wow. I've wanted this _so _bad for _so _long," Harry gasped.

Snape, who was somewhat occupied unfastening the youth's trousers, gave him an irritable glance. "Oh _really?_ It's funny how you managed to be _late _tonight, then, considering."

Harry watched the man's fingers, hardly listening. "Not my fault," he muttered. "Ginny cornered me about Quidditch again and wouldn't let it go."

The man's head snapped up. "You tell that cut-rate cunt to keep her hands off of you."

Harry reared back as though he'd been slapped. "What? Where did _that _come from?" He searched the man's face. "What's wrong with you? Even _you're _not usually _that _bad."

Snape had turned his attention to Harry's neck, nuzzling it in an abnormally soppy way. "I don't want to lose you," he muttered. He felt Harry settle a hand on his head, stroking it gently. "She has things to offer that I haven't. Like breasts. And a large, verminous family, and an unbreakable tie to her brother, and youth, and the ability to be socially accepted."

"Yes," Harry said contemplatively, "still, you're the one I chose, and you're the one I love. And it's all a bit odd, really; you're not normally this forthright. Are you sure something hasn't happened to you?"

"I have been feeling a bit off all day," Severus admitted. "But it's hardly anything noteworthy. I've just been a bit dizzy…perhaps a little impatient, as well. I don't want to talk about my health anymore, or that Weasley wench, for that matter. Kiss me."

Harry succumbed to the man's insistent embrace, twining his fingers in Severus' hair as the man proceeded to suck his earlobe. "Ooooh, that's nice," Harry whispered.

"You like that, do you?" Snape responded, gratified. "Well…I like it, too." Severus felt dizzier than ever, yet he'd never felt this good. Everything felt out of his control, and outside of his responsibility. He was finally giving in, and he was enjoying it.

"Snape…" Harry murmured. "I don't think we ought to be doing this."

Pushing Harry off his lap, Severus stood and began slipping out of his robes, as well. He gave a shark-like grin at the way the youth's breath hitched when he skimmed the material down past his hips. "I could do things to you that will leave you weak from pleasure, Harry," he promised in a low voice.

"I know, and Merlin knows I want this, want _you, _but…it's not right. Something's wrong with you, and I'd be taking advantage. Crikey, this is the hardest thing I've ever done," he whimpered. Severus had taken Harry's hand, licked his fingertips, tongue swirling wickedly. "_No, _Snape," Harry croaked, yanking his hand away. "We can't. I won't. You'd want me to say no, if you were you. I mean—if you were right in your head."

"Are you certain?" Snape asked, feeling a strangely momentary sting of disappointment. At the look in Harry's eyes, Snape knew he'd have to look elsewhere for entertainment. He began shrugging his clothing back on.

Another knock came on the door, and Severus had a fleeting hope that it would be Blaise, who would never, under any circumstances, say 'no.' "Enter," he rasped.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, disregarding Harry and his state of undress. "Severus, if you would follow me," he said, peering at the Potions Master over his half moon spectacles. "We have a problem."

**A/N: Thanks to:**

Plimpy  
Becki: Oh, Ginny's pretty tenacious, I think. I'm not fond of her either, to tell the truth.  
Aki: Truer words were never spoken. And I won't make you live without it!  
Misox: Hee hee! One convert is worth a dozen saints. Draco/Harry tends to be too fluffy for me. I personally like my snark. BUT, I did write a bit of Draco (see Dark Lord's Little Helper) and discovered he can be snarky, too!  
Tristheweatherwitch: I'm sure Remus has his reasons. He is, after all, the logical one. And my writer's block actually lifted recently! Huzzah!  
Madkornfan: Aw, but Snape is so sunshiny cheerful! ; ) And funny is all in the way you see things. Try talking to yourself. It's helped me immensely.  
Person: Sure thing!  
Marthsgirls: Aw, thanks! R& D is still one of my favorites. Ah, the leash scene. Good times.  
Lotrobsession: I refuse to believe a nationally syndicated television show is better than I am! Besides, I deplore the lack of Victorian-era clothing and large-nosed professors.  
AralynnEvenstar: Well, I WISH I could nail Snape…and Harry does as well, no doubt! Thanks!  
Echo the Insane: You want them in a pit filled with jello/pudding/mud and very little clothing, don't you. Damn it. Now I've got plot bunnies.  
AccioRemus: Thank you! Sometimes it's annoying that everyone wants pure happy fluff. You need discontentment to get plot, to get progress, to get the good stuff! I love the Snarry because I love TENSION. Mmmm. Tension.  
Nagini Crimson: Remus is thinking, he's just not expressing himself very well. And Blaise! Oh, the Blaise. Never have I had such fun!  
Chantelli: I know Remus is generally laid back, but if he feels Harry's threatened…and I love desperate!Harry. He tries so hard, the poor boy.  
Johnny Doggspitt: Pshaw, I say. You're a perfectly good writer yourself! And yay for deepness, indeed! And late nights. Speaking of which…so tired!  
Lychee2: Hmm. It was also in my favorite American tall tale, "The Devil and Daniel Webster." Which only goes to show you don't find the word anthracite anywhere normal. It's one of my favories, though! And yes, you win the superior vocabulary cookie of the day.  
Aribella: Oh, how I love Harry being manipulative. He's so much fun that way! Alas, Blaise is even more so…  
Lutheyl: I'm never fond of Ginny, myself, but oh, well…  
im-a-daydream-believer: Remus will get a bit of a chance to explain next chapter. A lot of it has to do with perspective. You know, I can't really see Sev trying to get on ANYONE'S good side. I can't wait for HPB; I look forward to his interactions with Voldie… And I think Snape knew that Harry was lying, but decided not to call him on it.  
Jemma Blackwell: Aw, dumb is such a politically incorrect wording. We prefer 'common sense challenged.' I think Harry's won enough Quidditch trophies. He'd rather win a place in Snape's bed at this point!  
corntey K: Are you suddenly into the Snupin? Have you ever read Of Cloaks and Daggers? I laughed so hard I cried. Seriously.  
Sweet Mercy: Hee! And I've never been there. I want to go, though!  
Eagle-Eyes: Yes, and thanks to my beta, my plot is slowly developing, too. Yay!  
Sbyamibakura: I had no idea what the F&( you were talking about! I was all "…dog ears? WTF? Did I say something about ears? Maybe making a pig's ear? But that's NEXT chap?" Snort. All better now.  
Snape's Nightie: It could drive a wedge, but there are other wedgies on the way!  
Jenonymous: Isn't Harry fun when he's devious? It works so well on a cute young thing like that. And Snape would be a fantastic vehicle for grammatical rants! I can almost here him…  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: I'm sure someone will get around to admonishing Remus and Severus. If they find the time…there are, unfortunately, more pressing concerns!  
Purplepaper: Remus is a swell bloke at heart—he's just misunderstood, poor baby. More Harry and Sev…well, actually…  
BabeGia103: Remus is really stressed about the whole thing. He's quite worried about Harry, and if he knows men like I know men, he knows what trouble they are!  
And the Laudable Lotrox: I'm tired, too! It's past midnight! Gah!


	11. Not Exactly Love Potion Number 9

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Eleven  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Snape discovers what's happened to him, and everyone scrambles to fix it. _Everyone_. Plus, you finally find out who the new spy is. Sort of. Wink, wink.

**Chapter Eleven: Not Exactly Love Potion Number 9**

Harry followed the men into the hall. "I want to come, too," he said plaintively, clutching at Severus' arm. "You can't leave me out of this. It's affecting your health, whatever it is, and I need to know what's going on."

"I'm afraid this isn't a very good time, Harry," the headmaster informed him, giving the boy a stern look. "You will not be joining us. I assure you that I will handle matters to the best of my ability."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry angrily demanded.

"Enough!" Snape whirled on him, his hair tousled and his eyes wild. "Not now, Potter. Just…go. I have sufficient worries without you following me about and getting into trouble. I'll collect you when I am able." He gave Harry another blazing glance, one that insinuated a night of groping hands, hot skin, and whispers from a smoky voice.

Then he swept away, leading Dumbledore down the hall, leaving Harry dry-mouthed and quivering. Harry watched until they were out of sight, then leaned against the wall, resting his feverish cheek against the cool stones.

After a while, he felt calm enough to stand up straight, and slowly returned to shut Snape's door and make sure it was locked.

"What are you doing here?" a curious voice asked.

Harry turned to see his one-time flame and current nemesis, Blaise Zabini. He was dressed in robes of dark blue that complimented his eyes, and the tips of his curly hair were fiery bronze. Harry cynically thought they must be charmed that way.

"I'm closing Snape's door. He had to leave in a hurry," Harry said through clenched teeth. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Severus and I were comparing notes as to how you rated as a lover," Blaise responded with a sassy smirk.

Harry glowered. "You know, I thought we'd gotten beyond this last year. Why are you suddenly being such a prick again?"

The boys stared at each other, postures defensive. Blaise looked away first, those dark blue eyes suddenly filled with shades and shadows of things Harry didn't understand. "Everyone loves a good prick," he responded glibly.

Harry frowned. "You're being evasive, that's all. It's not working."

Blaise's eyes widened and focused on Harry's once more, suddenly shallow and transparent again. "Who, me?"

Harry felt the anger bubble up inside him abruptly, that same, uncontrollable fury that he'd been battling for at least the past three years. "If you don't want to tell me, fine!" he shouted. "I'm going to find out what's going on, one way or another." He marched away, hands balled into fists. "And stay the hell away from my Severus!" he heatedly added over his shoulder.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus rushed to the headmaster's office, wanting nothing more than to be done with everything soon, and get back to Harry and the potential of a sexual dalliance. His mind insisted on picturing Harry's legs—strong, slender, well-muscled legs, which urgently needed to be thrown over Severus' shoulders. The man rubbed his temple with his fingertips. He oughtn't be imagining such things now. He ought to be focused. It was a losing battle.

"Albus, you have _got _to stop showing up in my quarters whenever I have sexual activity pending. It's most distracting, and I don't appreciate it," Snape said in a low, irritated voice.

The headmaster merely arched a brow at this out of character behaviour. "I'll take it under advisement. But I must point out that I have very serious doubts as to the imminence of the sexual activity. Harry really is a bit more responsible than that."

"More fool, he."

"No doubt. But if you would?" Dumbledore opened his office door and gestured for Snape to follow him. "Lucius, I believe you had something to say to Severus?" he asked. He nodded to the blond man, who was leaning casually against an étagère with an exceedingly apathetic expression.

"You!" Severus snarled. He whipped out his wand. "_Furnunculus!_"

Malfoy leapt behind the cabinet, taking what cover the étagère could offer. "Now, _really, _Severus. Hardly an appropriate welcome for an old friend, I daresay."

"An 'old friend' who's brought me nothing but misery from the first moment we met," Snape disagreed, leaning around so he had a better shot at the man.

"You know, I _did _save your life last summer. That should be worth _something, _shouldn't it, my dear chap?"

Lucius gave a small smile, one closer to a smirk, condescending and unflustered. Snape hated him at that moment, hated him more than he'd done in any of the years he'd known the man.

"Oh, you're so right. Here, I'll show you my gratitude, old _chum_," Snape replied. Then he conjured a silvery cauldron and watched as it repeatedly tried to slam into Malfoy's head. The man put his hands up and yelled, and while the cauldron bounced harmlessly off his wrists a few times, it did make its mark occasionally.

"Really, Severus, that's no way to treat a guest," Dumbledore eventually said, ending the spell. Snape noticed that the headmaster had allowed the abuse for several minutes before interfering, and the Potions Master's heart swelled with something like affection for the man.

"Then have him say his piece and then get him away from me," Snape snapped.

"Very well. Lucius?"

The blond's sneer had turned to more of a grimace than anything, and he was hastily trying to fix his hair. "I _came _to warn you that I put a potion in…motion, as it were, to be slipped to you. The Dark Lord insisted it be done immediately, so there was no chance of forewarning you. Well, I _had _rather hoped to see the headmaster in time, but by your behaviour, I am obviously too late."

"How did you get me to ingest it?" Severus asked, feeling cold fear settling in his stomach.

"Parkinson's failed potion." Lucius did not seem the least bit regretful. "And now you're to be kidnapped, and taken to the Dark Lord." He ran a hand through his precious locks, attempting to comb them out. "Happily, the headmaster will undoubtedly interfere with that little crusade, since he's here."

"What is it that was given to Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes hard.

Lucius began inspecting his nails. "I haven't the faintest clue. The Dark Lord said it was something Severus concocted himself, but there were any number of projects he worked on, once upon a time."

Severus had gone very pale, and his mouth was open. "The Uninhibiting Elixir. But it wasn't finished. It wasn't tested properly. It wasn't…meant to be used—not yet—not like this—not on _me_."

"Yes, well, sorry for the inconvenience," Lucius sighed unconvincingly. "I suppose Albus had better thwart me so I can be on my way."

"Oh, so it's _Albus _now, is it?" Severus snarled, drawing his wand again. "Funny how you seem to have a fetish for powerful men—you're always in bed with them as quick as—"

He was interrupted by a flick of Dumbledore's wand. Lucius flew across the room, smacking harshly into the wall. His hair was mussed again, and he raised a hand to dab at his nose, which was bleeding profusely. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Thwarting you, of course," Albus responded with ingenuous surprise. "I have to make it look convincing," he added earnestly. Lucius was lifted off the ground and shaken like a rag doll, then dropped unceremoniously. "Well, now you look quite dishevelled. Still, I don't know if you appear to have been in a scuffle with one of the greatest wizards of all time, if I might be so immodest. Perhaps a few boils would help?"

"That will not be necessary," Malfoy said coldly, gaining his feet and brushing himself off. "Now, if you raving lunatics don't mind, I have an appointment to keep. With the _other _psychotic bastard, lucky man that I am." He exited through the Floo, as Snape stared venomously at his back.

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "You know what you'll have to do."

"I won't!" Snape replied, chest heaving. "I can't—not now, not when I've come so far."

"You must, or you'll undo all the good we've accomplished."

"But I want to _keep _him," Snape replied, his dark eyes wide with desperation. "I've had nothing for myself all these years—I've asked nothing, and got less, and he _needs _me—"

"Severus, that's _enough. _If and when your condition is cured, you may see Harry again—recreationally."

Snape looked miserable. "I—give me a little time," he whinged.

Dumbledore have him a hard look. "You'll take no longer than needed," he ordered. "Am I right in assuming there is no ready cure for this potion?"

The Potions Master's shoulders drooped. "None. I never got around to it. He was dead—or gone, at least—and draughts that caused the drinker to lose their reservations were the least of my worries. I'd hardly worry, except—except that under its influence, there is no way I can prepare an antidote, and without an antidote…"

The headmaster raised a hand, stopping the man. "Well, it _is _a fascinating development, and I don't suppose I could blame anyone else for finding it so. Do come in, Harry," he called in a louder voice.

Harry opened the door, looking red and rather sheepish. He held the end of an Extendible Ear in one hand. "Er…yeah. Sorry about that," he said, glancing nervously at Snape.

Snape could not trust himself to speak, so settled for glaring at the boy. Or undressing him with his eyes; it was so hard to draw a line these days. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"But…what's going on? What antidote? I _knew _something was wrong with you, but…I assumed you'd be able to fix it. Why can't you fix it?" Harry inquired anxiously.

"Because I cannot _concentrate,_" Snape barked in response.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding relieved. "Is that all it does, then?"

Snape looked like he'd prefer to leave this unanswered, but grudgingly said, "No. That's merely an unfortunate side effect."

Harry looked troubled. "Then what does it do?"

"It…takes away one's inhibitions."

"That's all? There are lots of things that do that. Alcohol does that."

"Yes, eventually, and in large enough doses. But the effects of alcohol do not last, and it doesn't lower everyone's inhibitions. It affects different people in different ways."

"So…this _does _last, then? How long?" There was a long silence, as Dumbledore eyed Snape uneasily, and Severus avoided everyone's eyes. "Snape? How long?"

"It was ridiculously easy to come up with a potion that would last. The difficult bit will, I believe, _stopping _it working."

Harry was staggered. "You mean you don't know _how_?"

"No, I don't!"

"Calm down, Severus," Dumbledore said soothingly. "I'm sure it will be possible to reverse the effects, once we—"

"Once we have someone competent to do that!" Snape retorted angrily. "Don't you _understand, _Albus? I invented this potion, and even at that age, I was no amateur. This isn't going to be a simple solution."

"Yes, but surely someone is capable—"

"Who, damn it? Who? Because the last I checked, I was the only Potions Master living in Britain. Master, Albus. Do not disregard the title—not when this much is at stake."

"_What's _at stake?" Harry demanded, his face pale. "What happens that's so bad? Not having inhibitions could be a _good _thing," he argued when neither man answered him. "You were telling me how you really felt, earlier. You should do that more often."

Severus closed his eyes. "That's not important. The point is; there aren't many clever enough to follow my old notes, and possibly devise a cure. And even less we could trust. And—let's face facts—experimenting that way was highly illegal, and I doubt the Ministry would be happy to learn of it, even so many years after. I can't do it, and it would take someone who met these stringent criteria who could."

"It would have to be someone clever. Talented. And willing to risk your life, of course," Dumbledore pointed out.

Snape's eyes popped open, focusing on the headmaster with despair. "Oh, no," he breathed.

"Severus? You have someone in mind?"

"Oh, _no_," the man groaned. "Unfortunately, I do. There's only one cursed person available at this school that could possibly meet all qualifications."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly. "Thank God. Who is it, Snape? Come on, spill! Who is it?"

Snape rubbed his temple. "That Damned Granger," he moaned.

OoOoOoOoO

Hermione was dragged out of the library, where she was engrossed in of her studies, and set to work going through Severus' notes on the potion. They were old, disjointed, and—to Harry's amusement—sprinkled with disgusted annotations such as _I can't believe I'm wasting my time on this bollocks _and _What does the fool intend to do with it, anyway? Get laid? I suppose it IS the only way anyone would look twice at old Snake Eyes. _

Hermione sniffed primly at these, bypassing them to transfer the actual potion observations onto her own parchment. "I can't believe you didn't get yourself killed," she told Severus severely.

"Ten points for criticizing a teacher," Snape replied huffily. "And it wasn't as though it was my actual _job _back then—I had to scribble it down whenever I had a moment. And I wasn't worried—I was a good Occlumens even then, and kept false reports to show him."

"Did you?" Harry asked interestedly. "Why?"

"Because I'm a Slytherin, Potter. We never show our hand. We lie, even when we don't have to. That's just what Slytherins _do_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, are you lot going to be at this all night? Because I'm meeting Colin on the pitch at the crack of dawn tomorrow to try to train him up a bit, and—"

"Harry, this is really quite a bit more important than Quidditch!" Hermione reprimanded.

Harry looked contrite, but kept hopping from one foot to the other. "I _know _that, but see…it's not as though I can _do _anything about it. I'm not exactly useful here, and I hate watching you be useful when I can't." He didn't add that the looks Severus insisted on giving him while no one was watching had given him a raging hard-on, or that all he wanted out of life at the moment was a chance to deal with it.

Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll keep you up to date, but really, Harry, you ought to be more considerate."

Harry couldn't resist a quick glance at his lover, who was giving Harry 'elevator eyes' and licking his lips. He knew he was a distraction to Snape, who needed to put his mind to work on fixing the situation. Harry also couldn't help but feel guilty for refusing the man when he was so clearly in need. Really, leaving would be kinder to both of them.

"Hermione, could you please stay out of this?" he finally settled on saying. "I know what I'm doing."

"That would be an absolute first," Snape commented darkly.

Harry merely smiled. "Walk me to the door?" The man gave him what would probably pass for a nasty smile, but Harry read a different sort of 'nasty' into it, and flushed.

"If you insist." He made an elegant gesture for Harry to go first, and prowled after the boy. Harry could feel Snape's eyes on his back, and discovered he was having a hard time catching his breath. Hermione was already completely immersed in her notes, having forgotten their existence.

In the hall, Harry winked at the man. "Sure I can trust you alone with Hermione?"

Snape grabbed hold of the front of Harry's robes, hauling him up to face-level and kissing him soundly. Harry squeaked, the toes of his trainers barely brushing the floor. "You know perfectly well that that obnoxious goody two shoes is hardly desirable to me," he said, letting Harry drop to his feet.

"Yeah? Maybe," Harry said with a grin, straightening his glasses. "I suppose she hasn't got my charm, not to mention my debonair attitude. I'm a right catch, aren't I?"

Snape's lip curled slightly. "Nor has she your cheek. Either of them. You ought to get to bed, you swollen-headed berk. It can't take that long for the headmaster to fetch Professor McGonagall, so I imagine Granger's virtue is safe for the moment." He reached out, running a finger along the boy's jaw, forcing it upward. Very softly, Snape glazed Harry's pursed lips with his tongue. "Which is more than I can say for yours, should you linger," he added in a husky voice.

Harry threw his arms around Snape's neck, pressing a series of wet, clumsy kisses to the man's mouth. "Love you so much," he panted, in between the frenzy of kissing and groping at the Potions Master.

Snape nails dug suddenly into Harry's robes, and he yanked the boy away. "And I love you, you wretched vixen," he growled, his eyes stormy. "Don't ever forget that." He glanced up at a noise down the hall; Dumbledore was returning with the Head of Gryffindor in tow. "Now bugger off before I bugger _you_."

Harry straightened his clothing quickly, and gave his hair a quick pat, shuffling a few steps back. "Sure. Uh. Goodnight, sir," he said, then turned to skip down the corridor. "Good luck!" he told his passing professors, giving them an angelic smile.

Harry was now desperate to return to his dorm. As wonderful as it was snogging Severus, it wasn't the all out shagfest he was craving. At the moment, he'd have to make due with the memory of the man's lips, the curtains drawn round his bed, and a really good Silencing Charm. He suppressed a moan at the memory of Severus' tongue. A _really _good Silencing Charm.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape flipped through Granger's notes for about the fiftieth time. There was nothing there—nothing! Of _course _she couldn't help—she was no match for him! She was a born bureaucrat, a follower, a _conformist. _She was trying to fix a maverick potion, made by a young, foolish, maverick Potions Master. If she didn't get creative, things would be dark. Snape wondered how Harry had managed to lead her astray so many times.

He scowled at the girl, thinking hard. He suspected it had to do with Weasley, but that hardly helped. He vehemently hoped it wasn't anything sexual—he wasn't about to offer the woolly-haired swot anything of _that _nature. "Granger?"

"Hmmm?" she barely looked up from the potions text he had lent her. McGonagall was reading over her shoulder.

"If you find some sort of cure, I'll give Gryffindor one hundred points, award you extra marks, and make certain you get into any school of higher education that you fancy."

She looked up, astounded. "Will you tell people you gave me extra marks and one hundred points?"

Snape sighed. "If I must."

Granger tilted her head. "You know, just because we don't know how to nullify the potion itself doesn't mean we can't halt the _effects _of the potion," she muttered thoughtfully.

Snape, whose imagination had already wandered off to play with Harry, his broomstick, and a scandalous lack of clothing, tried hard to pull himself together. "That's the spirit."

Minerva beamed at him, disgustingly pleased that he'd offered to award her student points. He doubted she'd be quite so delighted with the honours he'd like to bestow on _Potter, _but that was neither here nor there. _Potter…_Snape's mind was dragged back to recollections of sweet lips under his tongue, and a firm body pressed against his. He shook his head hard. If Granger could merely mitigate his symptoms…

For the first time in recollection, Snape wished the girl every success.

**THANKS TO:**

_Cassie: _Yes, I tend to be rather evil. I'm a Slytherin; it's in my nature. (Plus, it's just fun.)  
_Tris the weatherwitch: _I think the hot and bothered is mostly Harry's fault, but it _has _been rather a while since Snape got any action, so it's probably first and foremost on his mind. I don't like Ginny either—that's why I'm writing her—but I adore my naughty Blaise.  
_Miki23: _Ah, but this time, Blaise isn't the one Severus has to worry about…  
_Echo the Insane: _Well, there will be some more Sev/Lupin action—of a sort—in the next chapter. I'm afraid there'll be a certain dearth of mud/jello wrestling, but they _will _have a chance at some good alcohol and interesting discussion.  
_Jenonymous: _(sighs) Oh, dear. Thank you, no, I didn't notice. I can change it at my LJ, but it's a pain in the arse to fix hear. (Sorry, I couldn't resist. ; P) Heh heh, 'Parkinslut.' I _do _like that!  
_The Sarcastic Typo: _Thanks—and they're really trying to piss you off. They work hard at it!  
_Sbyamibakura: _Oh, yes, I bought the new book, but this one will simply be AU from now on. Such is life. Unfortunately, that's as close as they're going to get for a while…  
_BabeGia103: _Well, I do love those cliffies! Snape will get into trouble later, but not for Harry's state of undress, and not with Dumbledore…  
_serena23: _(laughs) Well, I do a lot of kinky stuff on LJ, (_crème de la crème, _for preference) but I'm not sure anything that naughty will make it onto ff. It'll probably be pretty vanilla, as far as first times go…  
_Aribella: _Yeah, that Gryffindor sense of honour is a real bugger sometimes! And TALK about depressing! That's okay, I'll lighten the Snarry world up again.  
_Johnny Doggspitt: _You know, I don't think 'you suck, but in a wonderful way' could be taken as anything but sexually suggestive! Ah, but do you know where poor _Severus _will be at midnight?  
_Lady Darkness13: _Well, it was kind of his fault for making the thing in the first place…poor Sev, Dumbledore does have rather rotten timing!  
_Sweet Mercy: _I think Snape will get away with the whole Blaise thing. On the other hand, I think Blaise will get his own sort of revenge…  
_steffles24: _Cookie for guessing correctly! I just love Colin. I'm always looking for HarryxColin stories, but there aren't many about, more's the pity. Snarry's good, too!  
_Aki: _I find Ginny really annoying, so I'll do all the mean things to her that J.K. never will, k? And antic….pation is a good thing!  
_Chantelli: _No, no—hopelessly AU, but never dead. Besides, I like my Snape better than hers! I like hers too, but I like mine better.  
_Klover P: _I didn't _stop—_I just sort of paused. Do gypsies plead in airports? Sounds odd…  
_Madkornfan: _I'll update as soon as I can!  
_Klondike Bar:_ I love the cliffies!  
_Eagle-Eyes: _You live up to your name!  
_Purplepaper: _Yeah, it's one whopper of a potion. And everyone has unacceptable thoughts occasionally, it's just that poor Snape isn't capable of stopping from acting on it!  
_Lutheyl: _Thanks!  
_Asha Ice: _That there was!  
_And the Gorgeous GryffRavHuffSlythendor: _Hee! I liked that bit, too! Yeah, naughty Sev is the best…except for naughty Harry!


	12. Tragic Hero—or Complete Dumbass?

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twelve  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Snape does the noble thing, the valiant bastard, and makes everyone miserable. That's what being good does for you.

**Chapter Twelve: Severus Snape, Tragic Hero—or Complete Dumbass?**

"No, no—you don't need both hands on the broom all the time," Harry corrected. "How are you ever going to catch—I mean, how are you supposed to throw the Quaffle?" Harry shook his head, annoyed that he'd forgotten he wasn't trying to teach Colin to be a Seeker.

"But Harry, that's easy for you to say. You won't fall off!" Colin responded, his smile rather feeble. Who knew that audacious little Colin Creevey was scared of heights?

"You won't, either," Harry told him gently. "You need to learn to use your legs to grip, when your hands are busy." For some reason, Colin let out a long, bubbling, nervous laugh at this. "Anyhow, it's better to do it now, and fall off when you're hardly off the ground."

Colin still looked a little terrified, but gave the Quaffle an underhand toss, the broom bobbing under him. "B—better, Harry?"

"Much!" _Weak as a newborn baby, but better. _Anyhow, Harry knew the strength training exercises would take care of that. He just needed Colin to get comfortable shooting from the broom, first. "Now, let's get you moving about with only one hand on the handle. It's okay! I'll walk next to you, and I'll catch you if you fall."

Colin looked up at him as though he were speechless. The little blond blinked a bit, his eyes suspiciously wet. "Really? Oh, Harry!"

Harry couldn't help knitting his eyebrows at that, but shrugged it off. Colin was just weird. He was born that way, and he'd probably be that way forever. Leading his fellow Gryffindor around the pitch, Harry called out for him to turn left, or right, or switch hands. "Now, trying going up a couple of feet."

"Wow. Look at me! I'm…pretty high," Colin said excitedly from about ten feet in the air, one hand raised as though he were riding a bucking bronco.

"That's not bad at all, Creevey," a voice came from nearby.

Colin jerked on the broomstick as he tried to see who it was, and toppled from his perch. Harry deftly caught him in his arms, Colin's cloak covering Harry's eyes. "Damn it, Blaise, what are you doing here? And Colin, could you help me out?"

The cloth was yanked down, revealing Colin's excited, adoring face, his eyes huge. "You did, Harry! You promised you'd catch me, and you did!"

Harry flushed with sudden realization. Colin Creevey was crushing on him. Harry gave him a weak smile. Well, at least Colin probably wouldn't be afraid of falling anymore. "Er. Yeah. Said I would, and all. Um. Maybe you should get down." Harry set the boy back on his feet, feeling suddenly awkward.

Blaise walked over, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any accidents. I was just wondering if Harry had seen Professor Snape. He didn't answer his door this morning, and I need to talk with him."

Harry scowled. "What do you need him for, anyway?"

Blaise gave a languid shrug. "He _is _my Head of House, you know."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, it's all you're going to get."

"Listen, I told you to stay away from him, you—"

"Stop it, both of you!" Colin ordered, surprising Harry into silence. Colin was looking up at them with distress. "We can't be fighting like this—we won't beat Voldemort this way! We have to learn to work together, even if we're from different houses," he said quietly.

Harry was still annoyed with Blaise, but the Slytherin no longer looked willing to pick a fight. "You're absolutely right," Zabini said. "Once again, I apologize." He made his way off the field, leaving two stunned Gryffindors behind.

"What the hell was _that _about?" Harry said.

"Perhaps we're just not giving him enough credit," the younger wizard suggested, looking thoughtful. Harry doubted this, but didn't argue.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape huddled in his quarters, drinking straight from the bottle. So far, they had made little progress. He was quarantined until someone came up with _something _useful and That Incredibly Damned Granger had flatly _refused _to skive off classes to assist. He shuddered, remembering the way she'd whined, 'But _Professor, _we have NEWTs coming up. I can't fall behind!' And of course the grotesque Gryffindor's behaviour had met with the full approval of her Head of House.

Snape found he couldn't get anything accomplished himself, and it was too dangerous to go about teaching with no inhibitions—for one thing, Longbottom would probably have reached a vicious and untimely demise—so he'd camped out in his rooms. And got drunk. Why not? He wasn't any use to anyone like this. Besides, the Uninhibiting Elixir was like being drunk, but without the more pleasant side effects, so tipping a few back gave the Potions Master a sense of normalcy.

There was a determined tapping at the door, and Snape scowled. It had better not be Harry. He couldn't deal with Harry like this. Albus was right—he'd have to get rid of the boy for a while, for his own good. Anything could happen when that terror was around, and Snape had no brakes. He could just picture it—Harry flat on his back, his robes hitched up under his arms, and Snape leaning over him, declaring, "I love you with the fervour of a thousand white-hot stars, and did you know Lucius Malfoy was our newest spy? Incidentally, when we were your age, he liked to dress in black satin knickers and have his hair pulled. Interesting, no?"

He grimaced. "The damnable DOOR is OPEN!"

A grey head poked round the frame. "I…_see. _Well, I just wanted to check that you were all right, and see whether I could be of any help," Lupin said.

On any other day, Snape would have delivered any one of the cutting insults in his vast and mighty repertoire. Today, he merely sighed. "Well, you're crap at Potions, so that's out, but if you've a notion, you could put on a tutu, do a little dance and entertain me," he suggested.

Remus blinked. "I think I'd have to have several glasses of whatever it is you're drinking before I'd got to that stage," he said.

"Well, then, pull up a seat," Snape replied. "Grab a glass out of the cabinet."

"Really?" Remus settled uncertainly on the edge of Harry's chair.

"Oh, by all means. I've nothing to do but sulk, which is very ineffective if there's no one to see me do it, and I was feeling rather lonely, in any case. For Harry and his knee-sock clad legs, mostly, but you'll do, if only to piss on."

Lupin held out his glass, making a face. "Thank you," he said dryly.

OoOoOoOoO

After five glasses of firewhisky, Remus was _far _more interesting—in a predictably whiny and martyrish fashion, of course. He blubbered about all his friends dying on him, he grew nostalgic over his time as a student, and he railed pointlessly about protecting Harry—from _Snape, _as if the boy weren't facing far worse things than a serious porking.

"Why? _Why? _D'you really want to know why, Severus? Because everyone's failed him, and I'm all he has left. Because _someone needs to try to do what's right—_even when it isn't popular. He's just a _boy, _Severus. Sure, he thinks it's love _now. _He's seventeen. Sure, he thinks it will last forever. He's _seventeen. _Do you remember being seventeen, Severus? Do you remember the hopes, the fears, the pain? Do you remember the _drama? Nothing _was easy. If you got a spot on Friday night, it was the end of the world. If the girl—or bloke—you fancied smiled at you in the hall, you thought it was a consecration from a benevolent God. If someone you rather liked called you a swotty wanker, you locked yourself in the WC and contemplated suicide. It's _hell _being seventeen years old."

Snape opened his mouth, but Lupin cut him off.

"And don't tell me you don't remember, because half the time, you _still _act like it."

Severus gave the man a tetchy glare. "Well then, we're just a match made in heaven, aren't we?"

Remus shook his head sadly. "He's just a baby. I 'member changing his ickle nappies. 'S wrong, you taking advantage of him."

"I've not laid one—well, _fingers, _yes, but nothing else!" Snape told him, affronted. "And I don't care _what _you say. He's mine, he is. No one and nothing is taking him away from me. 'Cept maybe Dumbledore, or the Dark Lord. They're the only ones strong enough, and I'll fight them tooth and nail—oh, you bet your arse I will."

Remus stared at him through inebriated, myopic eyes. "Do you love him, Severus? To have and to hold, and even to let go if he wants you to? 'Cause that's the important bit—believe me, I know. It's easy to love someone enough to want them around. It's hard to love someone enough to turn your back when you have to."

Snape blinked a little, and turned to stare into the orange flames currently licking the insides of the fireplace. "I love him enough to do anything," he said.

Remus had to wonder why he sounded so despondent.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, grumbling under his breath. "Chin up, mate; I'm in the same boat," Ron told him. "Who'd have thought your boyfriend and my girlfriend would kick us out so _they _could spend time together?" he quipped. Then his face darkened. "Snape had better keep his hands to himself."

This brought the shadow of a smile to Harry's face. "Why would you worry about that, really?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, if I'm being totally honest, I have to admit he's pretty brainy, and it seems to me Hermione just might go for a bloke like that. I mean, I can't even spell half the spells she knows, let alone carry on intelligent discussions about them."

Harry laughed. "He's got other good points, too. He's really funny, and he's got wicked fingers. He can be a bit sharp, but he usually knows when he's crossed a line, and he doesn't do that so much anymore. Still, I don't think Hermione will be throwing herself on him anytime soon."

"She'd better not," said Ron.

"I'd have to kill her if she did."

Ron grinned back. "A Harry and Hermione catfight. That'd be something people would pay to see. The smartest witch of our year versus the best wizard in our year."

Harry waved a hand. "I'm not the best."

"Sure you are, Harry!" Colin Creevey joined them, beaming at Harry. He plopped down beside Harry on the couch, so close that their legs and shoulders touched, and Harry felt heat creeping into his face.

"I'm not…really," he muttered. He tilted his head. "Where've you been, anyway? You said you were going to work on some studying, didn't you?"

Colin shrugged, nervously rolling his quill around in his fingers. "Well…yeah. I was meeting a tutor for Defence. I just know you're right about Voldemort, and I want to be ready if he tries anything with me! I won't let you down, Harry!"

Harry looked puzzled. "You were meeting a tutor? What tutor? _I'm _the best at DADA, aren't I?"

"Of _course, _Harry," Colin assured him with all the fervour of an apostle. "But you said you were too busy, so…"

"So who's tutoring you?"

Colin bit his lip. "Blaise Zabini."

Harry scowled. "Well, he sure gets around, doesn't he?"

Ron snorted.

Colin gave Harry an angry look. "You're not being fair. He was really nice to me tonight, and he didn't have to be." He got to his feet, biting his lip. "I think you ought to try being nicer to him, I really do." He left the room, and Harry watched him with his eyebrows knotted with confusion.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape finally escaped from his rooms for supper, and then hurried back, ready to take another dose of his potion. He had to admit the Granger chit had at least cobbled _something _useful together, even though it wasn't a cure, and even though he would have to figure something else out, and quickly. With a careful balance of Sobering Solution, Prudish Potion, Taciturn Tonic and a Frugality Filter, Snape was operating normally. More or less.

Now that he could think straight, he'd have to get cracking on a cure. Because alleviating the symptoms was not going to be enough. He knew that even if he seemed normal, and acted as he usually did, he still had a very large problem. Snape would have to devote all his time to it until he'd found something to restore him to full health. Hopefully, he'd be able to do it soon. Very soon.

Because what he didn't tell Granger, what he didn't tell Potter, and what he didn't even tell Albus, although the man likely knew in any case, due to his Legilimency, was that if he _didn't _halt the effects of the potion soon, the consequences would be dire. His brain chemistry was probably already altered, and disintegrating even as he thought about it.

And Harry couldn't be told anything—because Harry just couldn't get the hang of Occlumency. Snape was going to have to end things between them. He _had _to, because Dumbledore the bloody Almighty had decreed it, but also because he knew it was the right thing to do. He just didn't know how to go about it without getting into explanations he wanted to avoid.

He swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Granger's notes long enough to add a pinch of demonic shards to the experimental brew that was currently simmering. It would simply have to be a matter of trial and error. He stirred counter clockwise, watching it turn frothy, the bubbles every colour of the prism.

There was a tap at his door. "Come _in_," he snapped, not looking up.

"Finally. I've been looking for you all day," Zabini's voice said.

Snape heard the door click shut. "Well, you've found me. You have potions first thing tomorrow—I don't see why it couldn't have waited until then." He flicked a glance up long enough to see the boy shrug.

"It's just that Lucius called me out today—"

"Did he?" Severus straightened. "Does he have further information on the potion he gave me?"

Blaise gave him an odd look, but let that pass. "No. The Dark Lord wanted him here today, but he wasn't certain why. It made him uneasy, and I though I should let you know. He had a assignment to get on the school grounds and have a look around, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to be looking for—maybe you, he thinks."

A line appeared between Severus' brows. "That _is _rather odd. What the devil is he up to now?" The potion turned blue, and Snape promptly took it off the heat, poured a spoonful into a chilled vial, and swallowed it.

"What does that do?" Blaise asked.

"Nothing, most likely." Snape sighed, shelving the vial, and finally turning his attention to Zabini. "I got the impression Malfoy was having difficulties with his current role." He sat beside the youth on the couch.

Blaise shrugged. "Nothing that he can't handle, I don't think. Voldemort wants to know who he knows at the school, but Malfoy won't tell him. He just says he keeps in touch with his son's old school friends. But I don't think—"

Snape grabbed the youth, dragging him close.

"What the bloody—"

"You idiot! You've got a fairy on you!" Snape growled, patting the boy down in a panic.

"Where? Where?"

"It was in your hair," Snape told him. "Bugger all, the Dark Lord probably had it tailing Lucius to find out who his contact is. We'd better get it, before it gets loose and makes a report." With one hand, he frantically skimmed through the boy's thick curls. "There—think it slipped down your neck," he muttered. Blaise had stripped off his outer robes, and Snape was plucking at buttons and digging under Zabini's shirt. His hand scrambled down the youth's chest. Somewhere in the distance, Severus thought he heard a creaking noise, but was too occupied to wonder at it.

"It's—it's—down the back of my trousers!" Zabini squeaked, obviously not cherishing the thought of where it would go next. He was struggling to get his belt and fly undone.

"Wait—wait—oh—just…_there_!" Snape shoved his wand under Blaise's shirt. His hands closed round the struggling creature, and he pulled it out just far enough to touch it with his wand. "_Eradico Phasmatis!" _he shouted. The fairy hissed at him, then crumbled to dust in his hand. "Oh, thank _god,_" he groaned loudly.

Blaise, too, was relieved, still breathing heavily, his heart racing. "And thank _you_," he added fervently.

"You son of a BITCH!"

Severus leapt about a foot, dropping fairy dust all over Blaise. The Potions Master's head swivelled round to see Harry, standing in the doorway, wand clenched in his fist. "Potter," he warned. "Don't do anything stupid."

Harry glared at him with tear-filled eyes. Blaise nervously tried to squirm further down on the couch, so its back would block any spells. "You're telling _me _not to do anything stupid, when you're in here, getting it on with BLAISE?" Harry said incredulously. "You know, I know you have that Uninhibiting whosits on you, but that's NO EXCUSE for THIS. I mean, that just means you want to do it all the time, you just usually DON'T."

Snape rose, straightening his own robes in the hopes that Harry would notice that they were still fully buttoned. He didn't, of course, but then he'd always been a bit of a blockhead. "Now, Harry, you—" He stopped suddenly, swallowing hard. Albus had been adamant that he cut himself off from the boy while the potion was still in effect. And there wouldn't be any awkward questions—at least, not of the sort he couldn't safely answer. "I'm sorry," he forced himself to say hoarsely, his throat dry. "It won't happen again," he added, knowing it wouldn't matter.

"What?" Potter croaked, eyes now swimming with tears.

"_What?" _Blaise parroted, for some unfathomable reason sounding angry.

"How _could _you? Oh, Severus, how _could _you?" Harry cried. And cried. Snape felt something tighten to an unbearable tautness in his chest.

Blaise got up from the couch, fumbling to do up his shirt. "Now, wait just a second. I—"

Harry was over the couch in a moment, raising his wand to do real damage to the boy.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Snape rushed out, snatching the wand from the air.

Harry looked at him furiously for a moment before his wrath returned to Blaise. "You slut! You slag! You worthless, underhanded, filthy, sodding, lousy, bleeding—bleeding—bloody—" Potter seemed to be stalling, or running out of adjectives. "You—you—_homewrecker!_" he finally settled on, hauling off and catching Blaise with a mighty strike of the forehand.

Zabini reeled, and Severus leapt between the boys, yanking the other irritating little prat's wand away as well, before damage could be done. "I have _never _slept with a married man in my _life!_" Blaise exclaimed, scandalized. "And you don't know _what _you're talking about, you stupid little—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Severus roared. "Potter! Back to your rooms! Now! No, I'm keeping your wand until your Head of House feels it safe to return."

"You greasy _bastard!_" Harry fumed. "How dare you go messing about behind my back and then act as though you've the right to take my wand?"

Snape dredged up a sneer. "That's the price you pay when you play with the big boys, Potter. It's hardly my fault you got in over your head."

Harry's eyes dilated further in ire, his face flushed with anger and humiliation, and Severus wanted nothing so much as to shove him against the doorframe and snog him silly. "Out!" he managed to rasp.

Harry turned and marched away, his jaw set, his face stony—proud, pretty Gryffindor that he was. He slammed the door behind him so hard that the room seemed to shudder—not an accomplishment to be sniffed at, considering they were ensconced in a stone dungeon.

Snape let out a shaky breath, motioning for Blaise to take a seat.

He was surprised to find the boy nearly on his toes, bristling. "You daft old prick—you've ruined _everything!_" he hollered.

**A/N: OMG, I can't believe I forgot to post this here. I'm so sorry! (Thanks to)  
**Clen3k: Wow, thanks for reminding me I hadn't put this on ff! I'm glad you think my Snape is still somewhat IC; it's a real challenge to keep him that way, yet have fun, too! I do remember feeling incredibly frustrated reading Fine Lines in regard to the tension, but at the same time, the tension makes it work! Hopefully, they'll get around to it eventually. I'm glad you've enjoyed reading this, as I've enjoyed writing it!  
Aeirin: Thanks! It's what I do best.  
Sbyamibakura: Well, I'm not sure how things will turn out in the end, but I'll do Snape my way regardless. Um. When I say, 'do Snape…' ; )  
Lutheyl: Virtue is what being a Gryffindor is all about. Well, not really. According to Snape, stubborn idiocy is what being a Gryffindor is all about, but he knows how to play on virtue, too.  
LeeLeePotter: Thanks so much! I tried to keep the game of 'who's the spy' going as long as I could, but eventually I DID want to spell it out, so there you have it; Lucius is the actual spy, with Blaise as a go-between and Voldemort with no knowledge of his assistance—yet, anyway. But soon there will be further developments, and I hope I'll get everyone guessing again! ; )  
Lirael Goldenhand: I know it's not the 'more' you wanted, but I hope this will tide you over!  
Johnny Doggspitt: (snickers) Yeah, good old Blaise. But he's got problems of his own, you know…  
Aki: Oh, I know what you mean. All the good slash authors spoil us. During the book, I kept wondering when they'd kiss. It's hard to remind yourself that they probably won't. (sigh)  
Tris the weatherwitch: I've gotta confess That Damned Granger is a slight rip off of Loupgarou1790's Snape pursues Harry title for her, although I can't remember what it was. Luckily, I don't think Snape is repressing much of anything around Hermione!  
Madkornfan: I am rather fond of her at times!  
Kelei: Apologies for not updating sooner…I just kinda forgot. Fifty lashes with a greasy noodle, and I promise it won't happen again!  
Chantelli: Mmm, Snape in heat. Like Snape on the prowl. Very inspiring!  
potter-DorK: You know, aneurysm is one of my favorite words. I dunno why. It just is!  
Aribella: I know it was a bit depressing in this chap, but onward and upward, and hopefully the laughter will return!  
nox pumilum: Thanks! (giggles) You know, I rather like the word saucy. Haven't seen it lately.  
Sweet Mercy: Some of the first fanfic I ever read was Hermione/Snape slash. I don't read het anymore, but I could see that, I suppose. The brains, and all. ; )  
Lillyseyes: I can see Harry tearing down the inhibitions eventually. He just needs some privacy, some alcohol, and Snape's undivided attention.  
skittles-07: Thanks! I promise the next update won't take so long.  
Jenonymous: I did the thwarting right after book six. I needed to thwart something, darn it—thwart it good. Much love!  
steffles24: Cookies. Man, I was down to 132.5. Then I went shopping and found the oatmeal chocolate chip cookies of destruction. (cries quietly) Anyhow, thanks! More of Remus' reaction soon!  
Purplepaper: Wait until he decides to spruce himself up. Rock Star!Snape!  
gussiegal5: Thanks, and your wish is my command!  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: I'd like to bestow some honors and some caramel syrup, too!  
BabeGia103: I hope he seems as clever in following chapters! Bad guys are hard to write!  
And the canonical Cassie: Well, evil _is _my metier, you know! And thank you! That's my favorite thing about Snape—the backhanded compliment, or the loving snark. What a man.


	13. Everyone Needs a Whack on the Head

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Thirteen  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, and contains a line from 'The Spoilers.'  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Snape discovers just how unpopular his decision is. Harry makes some unpopular decisions of his own. Someone decides they've had enough, and Harry decides it's time to show Snape what he's really made of.

**Chapter Thirteen: Everyone Needs the Occasional Whack on the Head**

Blaise Zabini, the little bastard, actually took a swing at Severus. It was a feeble blow, to be sure, and easily warded off, but the _bollocks _of the boy! "You presumptuous, capricious _twit_!" Snape said, shocked. "What the hell are you playing at? You know perfectly well that he can't be told the truth!"

To Snape's even greater amazement, Zabini's eyes were beginning to fill with frustrated tears. "You didn't have to go and tell him _that,_" he said through clenched teeth. "You could have made something else up! You could have! Now _everyone's _going to think I'm letting you bang me. You've _ruined _my reput_a_tion!"

As wretched as things were, Snape could not hold back a guffaw at this. Unfortunately, what started as a "Ha!" became a "Haaaaaeee," when Blaise kneed him in the crotch.

"_Shut up, _you complete fuckwit!" the boy snarled.

Snape nearly crumpled to the floor, but managed to totter over to his potions cabinet to find something healing, while he awaited such time as he could speak or think clearly again, and hex the living hell out of Zabini.

"You could have just sodding told him the truth—that it wasn't what it looked like, and you couldn't tell him why!" Blaise actually stamped his foot.

"And he would have said, 'Oh, jolly good then,' and let it drop?" Snape responded with a grimace. He found a likely brew and downed it. "He's fucking _Harry Potter; _he hasn't once listened to me when I've told him to keep his head down or his nose out of things—not in seven years!"

Blaise stared sullenly at the man.

"He'd have kept _pushing _and _pushing, _until he'd found out the truth, and _put you at risk, _you _stupid—_you _imbecilic—_you _selfish—_you opprobrious little _git!_"

"_You're _calling _me _opprobrious? Unbe_liev_able! Did you even spare one freaking thought for how this might affect me before weaving your tangled little web? I'm not the selfish one! You know, you just mope about and act like you're so abused, flitting around in your angsty gothic blackness and bitching about how unfair life is, and you don't give a _damn _about the rest of us—except pure, sweet _Harry_, of course. You know, my life isn't exactly a cakewalk, either! I was the first bloody gay to come out of the closet at Hogwarts in _generations, _and I didn't get parades or roses thrown at my feet for it, although the rest of you were sure quick to take advantage. Now I'm caught up in all this bollocks, with creepy old Lucius Malfoy whispering in my ear, coming straight from the Dark Lord, and it's _horrible _pressure, which I expect you ought to _know_. All I wanted was one small, shining thing of my own. Just _one _god damned chance at someone getting to know _me_, and appreciate me, and not shag and run or tell me I'm not enough or outright _reject _me!"

Snape was floored. "What the devil are you _on _about?"

Zabini looked utterly livid, his usually cherubic face red, his eyes flaming. "Just! Just—Just _never mind_," he retorted. He snatched his wand away from Severus' nerveless fingers, whipped around, and ran out the door, slamming it in grand Potter fashion.

Snape grabbed another potion and took a spoonful, wishing he could strangle someone. Limping off to find what little remained of his liquor stores, he grumbled angrily to himself. "Fucking theatrical teenagers. I should just sodding let them be and find someone my own age."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was resting his head in Hermione's lap, snuffling quietly while she stroked his head. Ron sat nearby and made disgusted comments about Blaise, Snape, the whole state of affairs, and Harry trying to take advantage of the situation to make a move on Ron's girlfriend.

"Oh, just shut up," Harry said, wiping his nose and giving Ron a drawn smile.

Hermione thwacked him lightly on the head. "If you try using my robes as a handkerchief, I'm going to have to do you serious physical damage. I just learned all about the Corroding Composition, which eats away your intestines, so you oughtn't mess with me."

"That's gross," Harry muttered, making a face and letting his head fall again.

"That's _wicked,_" Ron contended. "How can we slip it to Voldemort?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think it would work. He's got magical protections like you wouldn't _believe. _Very few magical things can even _hurt _him, really, except for Avada Kedavra. He has all kinds of intricate spells protecting his body and mind."

"How do you know all that, then?" Ron inquired.

She gave a demure smile. "Not all of Professor Snape's papers related strictly to the potion he was making at the time. He made others, and was told of others, and he commented on a lot of things. And really—judging by the fact that he knew so much, there must be a lot of other spells protecting Voldemort, because I'm sure Professor Snape didn't know the half of it."

"You're probably right," Harry said, rolling so he could look up at the ceiling. His forehead was wrinkled in concentration. There was something important nagging at him, but he just couldn't quite think of it. "How do we get past all that stuff, then?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said with a frown. "I keep hoping there will be some incredible, obscure spell out there in a dusty old text, just waiting to be found."

"I don't think so," Harry replied slowly.

"Why not? Sounds possible to me," Ron told him.

"I don't know…can't quite put my finger on it," Harry said, chewing his lower lip. All of his senses were screaming at him that he was forgetting something important, and it was driving him batty. It was like having an itch in his brain. "I just think it's something simpler than that—like—like it'll take two steps, for some reason. Gah! Hermione, why did you have to go and infect me like that?"

"Infect you with what?" Hermione demanded, affronted.

"I don't know. Curiosity, or this mystery, or whatever you want to call it. This puzzle. Now I feel like I have to solve it. I feel like part of me _knows _how to kill Voldemort, but…there's a trick to it. A secret, overlooked little thing."

"Hmm," Hermione said, as Harry got up and started pacing. "The riddle of Riddle, sort of thing." She and Ron exchanged a smile as Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, brooding.

"I really hate Blaise," he muttered glumly.

Hermione looked conflicted before she spoke up. "Um…Harry? I was thinking…well…you don't think perhaps Snape is doing this for your own good? It's just that he tends to push you away whenever there's likely to be trouble…"

Harry turned on her, eyes flashing dangerously. "You think I don't know that? I'm not thick, Hermione. But I _am _sick of the bloody high-handed way he takes decisions away from me. I'm not a child. He acts like I am, just because he's so much older—like he expects me to realize adults are always right. THEY AREN'T. I know that. The Dursleys are rarely right. If adults _were _always right, my parents would still be alive. Sirius wouldn't have gone to Azkaban. Remus wouldn't have to fight to make ends meet. And Severus Blasted Snape wouldn't get his feathers in a flap every time I was in harm's way. No, I don't know if he's really shagging Blaise. But he let me think he was. He took that decision away from me—again."

Ron patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, pleased when Harry kicked at the carpet rather than bursting into tears and hugging him—not that there was anything _wrong _with that.

"I reckon we're over, for now," Harry told them quietly. "Until my thoughts and feelings carry some weight. Until _he _starts acting like an adult."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I see. Well…just remember we're here for you. You've got loads of people who care about you."

He gave her a wan smile. "Thanks. I know it."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape pulled Blaise aside after class the next day. Harry had stormed off as soon as his Philtre of Finesse was safely in Snape's hands. Snape noted, with a weary ache in his chest, that Harry hadn't once looked him in the eyes.

Blaise did, though. Blaise scowled at him as though he could win a medal for it. "Stop it, you moronic whelp. I need you to listen to me."

Blaise did not dim his furious glare of indignation.

"It's the first Hogsmeade weekend coming up, and I want you to stick close to Harry."

The boy's eyes widened. "What? Why? And how the hell am I going to manage that, considering circumstances?"

Snape grabbed him by the collar, lifting him so he could glare right back, his own vicious look un-diffused by any amount of distance. "I don't care _how _you do it," he answered coldly. "Tease him, follow him, taunt him about cuckolding him, flirt with him—but keep him where you can see him, and _keep him safe. _You _know _Voldemort's getting bolder. He managed to get something in one of my student's potions, for fuck's sake!"

Blaise rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, yeah…"

Snape threw him bodily out of the room. "Just do it. Don't complain, don't whine, and don't bother me. Just get the job done. And at your first opportunity, you'd best warn Malfoy about that fairy. It likely won't be the last time Voldemort tries something of that nature, so the man had better be on his guard."

Zabini frowned. "We're meant to meet in Hogsmeade, so I'll see what I can arrange. Don't worry; your precious Potter will be safe with me around to protect him."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry swirled his butterbeer round in the bottle, trying not to feel too depressed. It had been two whole days since he'd last spoken to Severus—other than to say 'Yes, sir,' or 'No, sir,'—and the absence of sweet snark in his life was painful. The absence of sweet kisses was even worse. The absence of Snape, of someone he could go to and say, 'Gah, I had to watch Ron and Hermione snog during break,' or 'I had a nightmare that Colin Creevey turned into Voldemort and demanded I take him to the winter ball,' or 'I fell off my broom at Quidditch, please kiss it and make it better,' was driving him mad.

His first trip of the year to Hogsmeade wasn't turning out very fun. He looked round the table at Ginny, who was fluttering her eyelashes at him, Colin, who was trying to do the same, and Ron and Hermione, who were ignoring their antics.

"No, you can't use crushed snake fangs," Hermione was saying to Ron. "They're too strong. That's the biggest problem with this potion—it's so unstable! In order to come up with _any _cure, it's going to require a delicate balance. I hope Professor Snape's having better luck with it than I am."

"You're really insensitive, you know that, Hermione?" Ginny demanded. Hermione looked up, surprised. "After what Snape did to Harry, why are you even trying to help him?"

Harry felt his face go red. It was weird, because he'd been rather thinking that himself. And he'd been wishing someone would stand up for him. It was nice to have someone take his side, but at the exact same time, it was embarrassing, too. "It's okay, Ginny," he muttered, wishing she'd lay off.

"Well, I can't just let—"

"Oh, talking about my boyfriend, are we? Dear Granger, I can't tell you how _grateful _Snookums and I are that you've lent a hand." Blaise gave the woman a sneaky grin.

Hermione's mouth was still open, and stayed that way.

Blaise took a seat across from Harry. "I _can't believe _you, you slut!" Ginny exploded. She turned to Harry. "Just ignore him; he's only doing it to get attention."

"Believe me, I get all the attention I want down in the dungeons. I don't need it from Virgin Boy or his even more maidenly side-kick."

Ginny gasped. She wasn't wearing a fishnet outer robe for nothing. "I'm not _maidenly,_" she protested.

"I _meant _Creevey," Blaise responded, rolling his eyes.

Colin looked a bit hurt and confused. "I'm just saving myself for someone who really cares about me," he protested in a small voice.

Harry put an arm around him. "Good on you, then!" he said loudly. "And so am I. There's nothing wrong with it—and I'm glad I have, because so far, anyone I _might _have slept with would have only been an horrific mistake." Colin leaned into his embrace admiringly.

Blaise looked strange. His eyes were glittering, but he didn't look the least bit happy. He also seemed to be twitching a bit, and staring at Colin Creevey.

"And if you think I'm going to get jealous over you and Snape, think again," Harry added angrily, trying to pull Zabini's attention back to him. "I don't care what the two of you do. It's not like I'm hurting for company."

"That's right!" Ginny piped up. "I'd take care of Harry's needs anytime!"

"Oh, _ew!_" Ron exclaimed. "That's just—look, I understand about the—I want him to be straight, but don't _say _things like that!" he sputtered.

Harry tried to be more gentle. "Ginny, I love you. I just don't see you that way—and I never will. You're a _girl, _and I…reckon I'm always going to like blokes more. If I kissed you, it would be a sort of lie, you understand? I'm sorry."

Ginny stared down at the table. "What are you saying?" she asked in a strangely shrill voice. "That I should just give up? That there's no hope?"

Silence. "None whatsoever," Harry affirmed softly. He flicked a look at Colin. "I'm afraid it'll only be boys that capture my heart," he said. Ginny sighed, got up and left the table. Her knuckles were white, her fists were clenched so tight. Harry looked away.

Blaise was sweating. "Oh, _please, _Potter—your phony modesty doesn't fool me a bit. You just love to be hero-worshipped, whether it's a bloke doing it or not."

"That's not true!" Colin squeaked. "Harry doesn't like the attention—he's really pretty shy!"

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Colin, good to know you pay attention," he said. Then he realized he still had his arm around the boy. Well, it could be worse, couldn't it? Colin Creevey was living proof that Harry wasn't completely unwanted. Then he realized he was still staring down at Colin, who was starting to blush brightly in response, a vivid pink spreading across his the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.

Harry slipped a hand under Colin's chin—not that he needed to, because you could have dragged Voldemort into the room and set him on fire right next to them, and Colin Creevey probably wouldn't have looked away. Harry leaned forward slowly, and pressed his lips softly to Colin's. Colin was frozen for a long moment before he worked up the courage to kiss back. He was clumsy, but very earnest. "You just be true to yourself," Harry said hoarsely after he pulled away.

Colin's eyes were like saucers, and he raised a hand to trace his lower lip with his fingertips. "Oh. Oh. Gosh," he said. "That—that was—oh, _Harry_," he murmured in a hushed voice.

"Oh, _EW,_" Ron said loudly, and Hermione smacked him in the arm.

"Stop that," she ordered. "We agreed to be supportive!"

But Ron wasn't the only one who looked unaccommodating about the situation. Blaise was ramrod straight in his chair, his face white with rage. "You're being stupid, Creevey," he said in an oddly quiet voice. "Potter doesn't want you. He's never going to want you. He's upset about Snape, and he's lashing out. And—as _always—_he's not taking anyone else's feelings into account about it."

Harry blushed, infuriated that Blaise felt the right to stick his nose in again. Worse, he felt just slightly ashamed, because there was a slim possibility the Slytherin was a little bit right. "Mind your own business!" he snarled. "Besides, Mister Moral High Ground, when exactly have _you _ever taken anyone else's feelings into consideration?"

Blaise ignored him, and didn't take his eyes off of Colin. "He hasn't forgotten Snape. He won't. For you, it's a simple matter of no one else will do. For Potter, it is the same. Understand that, if you understand nothing else," he said, and by the finish, his voice was so fatigued that the rest of the table almost couldn't hear it. He pushed his chair back, the legs shrieking against the floor. "I need a drink," he added, and left.

Harry stared after him, feeling the heat drain away from his face, the pride slip from his expression, and worst of all, the comfort he'd been taking in this—knowing that it would get back to Snape—bleed away, leaving him hollow again. He leapt up from his seat. "I'm going out for a bit." He barely heard Colin behind him, saying something about having something he needed to do, as well. Harry roughly pushed the door to the pub open, and stepped out into the cool afternoon air.

What right did Blaise have to do that, anyway? What right did he have to steal Snape away, and then make Harry feel empty and isolated, like his insides had been removed with an ice-cream scoop? What right did he have to go spouting off to Colin Creevey, of all people? Harry kicked a rock in the street, wincing when it caromed off a window. It just wasn't fair.

OoOoOoOoO

Lucius glanced at his pocket watch, tapping his cane impatiently. A small noise at the mouth of the alley indicated that someone was coming. "_Finally_," he breathed, turning. "I've better things to do with my life than skulk about in the dark, waiting for—" He broke off when he saw the teary, frustrated adolescent eyes gazing up at him.

"Take me to Voldemort."

"What?"

"Take me to the Dark Lord. Now." A chin raised, pride coming before a fall. "I'm joining him, you see. I'm demanding you take me. If you don't, he'll hear about it. And he won't be pleased." Lucius eyed the grim smile with some trepidation. "I'm _worth _something, to him."

Malfoy inhaled a sharp, surprised breath. "What manner of treachery is this?" he demanded, eyes darting, hoping for something to distract, something of use. Why had he and Blaise decided to meet in Hogsmeade, where a dark spell would be noticed? Where guards patrolled, looking out for Potter? Where Lucius was _impotent?_

"Don't be stupid," came the flat response. "He doesn't want me. He's _never _going to want me. I see that now." Lucius didn't follow, but he got the feeling he wasn't meant to. He observed the gulp, a wince, features flickering as they were mastered. "But with the Dark Lord's help, maybe he will. And that's all I want. That's all I've ever wanted."

"You'll regret it." The words had slipped out before Malfoy could stop himself.

His young companion smiled tightly. "Then so will everyone else."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape scribbled in a margin, one foot tapping against the leg of his chair. He felt ready to scream. He'd taught his classes, eaten his lunch, graded papers, and was left with a handful of hours in which to search for a solution to his condition—if he didn't bother with sleep, that is. He hadn't been lately. He'd just been downing potions to take care of that. There would be a price in the long run, but if he didn't cure himself soon, there wouldn't _be _any long run. Time was slipping away from him like water through a sieve.

Tonight, he'd given up on the fumes of his laboratory and had settled in his study with a number of promising books. Pince was going to have a complete meltdown when she discovered he'd been writing in them. Still, he couldn't help himself—it was an old habit, difficult to break. Besides, the librarian could go bugger herself. If she didn't like it, she could kick his corpse when he failed.

There was a knock at the door, and Severus blew a breath out through his teeth. "I really don't need company tonight," he called out, hoping whoever it was—Dumbledore, Lupin, Blaise, McGonagall—would get the hint and sod off.

The door swung inward. "I'm not here to enjoy your company," a frosty voice informed him. Snape looked up, astounded, to see Harry's composed face in the doorway. "I merely came because you still need to work on the Patronus Charm. You're a liability without that skill, when there are Dementors all over the place."

Snape blinked a bit. "What? What are you…you're risking having your eyes fall out from exposure to Zabini's sexual acrobatics in order to offer me your talents as a tutor?"

Harry's face remained carefully blank. "Yes. I'm not a child. I can accept that…that you've…that things were not as they seemed, and that our relationship, such as it was, is over. That doesn't excuse me from involvement in the upcoming war, and it doesn't exempt _you, _either. This is something that has to be done, that's all." The boy's voice was flat.

Snape looked down at his lap, the words _unrestrained, wild, _and _unmanageable _leaping from the page and burning into his eyes. "I really don't have time for it, right now," he responded, keeping his voice as casual as possible.

"I've already okayed things with the Headmaster, so I'm afraid that's just too damn bad," Harry responded. He waved his wand, shoving all the furniture against the walls. "I've taken the liberty of having Filch stick a Boggart in your liquor cabinet," he added.

"Oh, thank you _very _much," Snape said bitterly. "And here I'd avoided it because it kept jerking about and I'd thought I'd come down with delirium tremors or something."

Harry offered a mirthless smile. "Wand out, Severus." He waited until the man rose from his seat, and walked to the cabinet. "After it sees me, it will become a Dementor. Then I want you to step forward and cast _Expecto Patronum. _You need to concentrate on a happy memory while doing so. Understand?"

Snape bit his lip. He really _didn't _have many happy memories, and most of _those _were tied to Potter. He certainly wasn't in much of a situation to appreciate them _now. _Damn Albus for making arrangements behind his back.

"Ready?" Harry asked, lowering his hand to the lock on the cabinet.

Snape nodded. The catch was released, and a vague form floated out. After being near the boy for a few moments, it swirled, gathering itself together, taking form. Harry stared up at the Dementor hovering in front of him. "_Now!_" he commanded.

Snape had his wand up before he'd thought twice, such was the implacability of Potter's order. "_Ex-expecto Patronum,_" the Potions Master grunted, trying to recall the day Fudge had said he'd get an Order of Merlin, back when he'd thought he'd caught Black out trying to murder Harry. Nothing much happened, except for a trickle of insubstantial mist coming from his wand. The Dementor turned on him, beginning to shift, and he gripped his wand more tightly. The world suddenly became very cold. "Expecto…" he whispered, trying to swallow his shame.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Potter barked, and the great stag Patronus leapt from his wand, corralling the Boggart back into the cabinet. Harry reached into the pocket of his jeans. "Here," he said, not unkindly, offering Snape a hunk of chocolate. "It gets easier. Try to think of something happier."

Snape took a bite of the bitter, smooth slab, closing his eyes as the warmth permeated him. A better memory. He thought about the time Harry kissed him, up in Trelawney's closet. "All right," he managed. "Let's go again."

This time, his Patronus fought to take shape, a shimmering outline of something between himself and his foe. Either somewhere outside of reality, or somewhere within himself, Snape could hear Harry. '_You think I WANTED to fall in love with you?' _Blaise's voice: '_I can't cheer for you, but I can give you something, like, for luck…' _Lupin's voice: _'Oh, my God. Severus, I think I found Harry.'_ He remembered holding Harry as he shuddered violently, in the throes of agony after repeatedly enduring the Cruciatus Curse at the hands of the Dark Lord. The cold settled into Severus' chest, and Snape could no longer keep fighting. He fell to his knees, drained, and Potter stepped in, driving the Boggart-Dementor back again. "Are you all right?" he asked sharply.

Snape pressed a hand to his head, nodded untruthfully. It was useless, really. He wondered why he bothered. A hand reached under his chin, forcing his head up. "Go on, open your mouth," Harry said impatiently, pressing a bit of chocolate against Severus' lips. Snape sucked a bit of cocoa from a fingertip, and Harry said nothing.

The Potions Master stood, feeling much improved. "Thank you," he muttered.

Harry's eyes were shut. "I think that's enough for tonight," he said. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Snape saw him to the door, and watched him all the way down the hall. Harry walked with purpose in his steps, and Severus puzzled awhile before realizing; the boy had faced his own fears tonight, and--unlike Severus--he'd mastered them easily. It was difficult to reconcile the temperamental boy Harry often was with the one who'd been present tonight. Despite his youthful face and delicate frame, Harry had handled things with aplomb.

Perhaps it took as much upheaval as they'd recently undergone for Snape to see the student in a different perspective. It was odd to think Harry had sustained such changes, and Snape hadn't even noticed. He shook his head a bit, closing his door.

Harry Potter was becoming a man.

**Thanks to:**

Tris the weatherwitch: I like school. When I can afford it. If I had the choice, I'd do nothing but learn, all my life. Still, if school interferes with my story, it is evil and must be killed. ; )  
Aki: Cheer up, it's always darkest just before dawn!  
Aribella: Homewrecker is one of my favorite words, it really is!  
discontinued-me: Ah, yes, Junior. He'll have to have a cameo here shortly!  
im-a-daydream-believer: Explanations will only be forthcoming after you've cleaned your room and washed the dishes and taken over the world for me! ; )  
Chantelli: Well, I don't know if you'll _read _it on a weekend, but this is being updated on a weekend!  
Lutheyl: Aw, I'm rather fond of the character of Colin. Hugh Whatshisface is a real cutie.  
Johnny Doggspitt: Yeah, kind of a cliché thing, but they'll work their own plot into it eventually. Like Harry here! I'm trying to update here, too, but I keep forgetting. I'm such a ditz that way!  
Purplepaper: Oh, I'm glad you noticed my 'ouch' line! One of my faves.  
Kelei: If I had a bigger brain and an extra set of hands, I'd update more quickly. I'd be freakish and miserable, no doubt, but there would be frequent updates!  
Lady Darkness13: Aw, can't have Snape 'normal,' until I've finished with the potion as a plot device! Besides, the only normal people are the ones you don't know very well.  
Sweet Mercy: He's not so much mean as he is misguided. ; )  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: It took a lot of thought to get them into a compromising position, because I don't think Snape would normally touch Blaise, let alone undress him!  
Klondike Bar: Poor Blaise? Hopefully that's an indication of my evil plan working…  
Lotrox: Yeah, I do like the cliffies and the occasional angst! But there's always humor, too…  
potter-DorK: I think there will probably be more Molly eventually…  
steffles24: (laugh) Actually, I think poor Harry gets about twice the teen drama of the other kids. Nothing is easy for him, is it? Come on, he's got to be a bit warped by now. And well, you know Hermione…she has to be sensible. I hope the Blaise stuff works!  
BabeGia103: Well, Snape thinks he's being noble. Harry's smarter than he acts, though!  
And the Cosmopolitan Cassie: Squee! I'm glad you like my depiction of Colin! He's so much fun to write.


	14. Respect is Not Just for Headmasters

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Fourteen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Snape discovers that Harry isn't the only one being left out of the loop, and isn't happy about it. He and Harry have a bit of a heart to heart, trying to work through the issues so they can work together. Ginny isn't giving up, and Harry witnesses a baffling argument. Baffling, that is, if you're as oblivious as Harry Potter.

**Chapter Fourteen: Respect; it's Not Just for Headmasters Anymore!**

Severus hovered next to Hermione's elbow, arms folded tightly. After all, it wouldn't do for the chit to notice that his hands would not cease shaking. He wasn't certain why—it might well have been a side effect from the potions, or it might have been lack of sleep, or possibly even the first indications of a breakdown of various internal organs on a cellular level. None of the options pleased.

"And now, we add a single drop of salamander blood…" The liquid shimmered a moment before settling into an opaque orange. Granger looked inordinately pleased at her results. "Yes, I think that's right. I think that's _it,_" she added cheerfully. "Want to test it now?" She carefully measured a portion into a vial.

"No, I'd quite like to wait until my natural reticence and common sense have completely disintegrated, leaving me a walking Id of a man, raping and raging as the mood struck. Yes, yes, give me the damned potion!" he snapped, yanking it out of her hands and tossing it back.

"Oh! I don't think you're supposed to do it that fast—isn't it hot?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

Severus didn't answer. He was too busy trying to claw out his own tongue. Unfortunate sounds bubbled from his throat as he tried to indicate his need for something to alleviate the intense pain in his mouth. It felt as though he'd bitten into a sandwich full of needles.

Remus, who had been overseeing things, quickly conjured a glass of ice water. "Here, Severus," he said, pulling the vial away and replacing it with the glass.

Snape pressed his tongue to the outside of the glass. "You thoolth, I canned dwing thith," he said, trying to keep his tongue to the chilly glass.

"Oh, that's _right_!" Granger exclaimed. "The water would react negatively with the acromantula venom. I'm so sorry, Professor. I should have stopped him."

"Well, ad leathd I could uthe the glath," Severus responded. As his mouth cooled, he attempted to lower the glass. It stuck to his tongue. "Dab id! Bloody hell. Lubin, if you would pleath athithd me?"

Remus tried to hide his laughter as he waved his wand, unsticking the glass without tearing Snape's tongue off. "Sorry, old chap," the werewolf said. "I didn't realize."

Snape glared at him. "Aren't _we _in jolly spirits?" he snarled. He stuck out his tongue and gently prodded it with a finger, trying to assess the damage.

"Sorry," Lupin repeated. He looked at Severus awkwardly. "I know things have been rough for you lately—even though I really do think you did the right thing about Harry."

"Oh, but you've no objections to me buggering Blaise?" Severus responded belligerently. Granger ducked her head and took notes on the potion, trying valiantly to pretend she couldn't hear the men.

Remus flicked a glance at their young assistant. "Severus, I know perfectly well that you're far too honourable to do such a thing."

Severus sputtered. "What? What? You were full well damned ready to believe I was doing it to Potter!"

"All right, so I might have been feeling a little overprotective. I didn't honestly think you would do something like that after you'd promised me not to. And I know you're a good man deep down, and that you've not leapt into bed with young Mister Zabini."

Severus hunched his shoulders defensively. "Potter didn't have any trouble believing it," he grumped.

Remus had the temerity to pat him on the shoulder. "He'll come round," he assured the man sunnily. "Hopefully in ten years or so."

"Can we see if the potion is working?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know how, unless you're going to ask him a question he really doesn't want to answer, and see how he reacts," Remus replied.

Severus had a bad feeling, but before it could fully develop or he had a chance to do something about it, the girl turned on him. "Harry kissed Colin Creevey yesterday in the Three Broomsticks," she said. "Did you know that, and how does it make you feel?"

The irritating beaver-faced wench actually held quill to paper for his response. She did _not _write down the series of four-letter words that spewed from his mouth.

"And no I did _not _know that, and Harry can damn well snog whomever he chooses, the tart, and—and—you all—just—_piss _on Colin Creevey, anyway!" he finished.

"Hmm. I don't think it's much help at all," Hermione noted with disappointment. Under 'Results' she wrote, 'Much swearing, redness of face.'

"_Thank you, _Miss Granger. You are dismissed," Severus told her. "And you, you burdensome beast, have no reason to be here, since the young scholar you were escorting is no longer welcome. Out. Scat. Go!" He shoved the man out the door.

"Goodness. You'd think we weren't welcome," Remus remarked. He gave Hermione a grin and offered his arm. "As I'm your escort, I'll take you back to your tower, Rapunzel."

"Making sure the dragons and bogeymen don't get me?" she asked wryly.

"No. Making sure you don't make any detours that get you into trouble. I know your type—you're a _Gryffindor,_" he said.

"God help us all," Snape sighed, and shut the door on them.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hi, Harry!" Ginny said brightly. "What are you doing?"

Harry barely glanced up from his book. "Huh? Oh…trying to figure out some way of killing Voldemort. It's just…I've had this weird, nagging feeling for _days _now that I know something important, but I can't remember what it is."

She scooted a chair forward and sat next to him. "Sounds…difficult," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Need any help?"

"Nah. Hermione's helping go through the books, and Ron's making a list of spells we've used in the past against him—or against anyone else that wants to kill me."

"Then why aren't they here now?" she asked gently.

Harry turned a bit pink. "Um. Now that you mention it, they _have _been 'getting a snack from the kitchens' for a rather long while."

Ginny laughed. "Well, I just hope Hermione knows a good prophylactic potion."

Harry gaped. "You—don't think they've—already—?" he stammered eloquently. Ginny just shrugged, not looking at him. "Oh," was all Harry could think to say. He supposed it made sense—Ron and Hermione had been doing a strange sort of dance around each other for an awfully long time. And they _were _seventeen, although he still wouldn't have expected Hermione to—to _agree _to that sort of behaviour, let alone wilfully participate. On the other hand, there _was _more to Hermione than books and bossiness, even if he didn't always appreciate the fact.

Harry hid a wistful smile as he returned to his reading. He really wanted to skim through the rest of the book before practice, but now he was finding it hard to concentrate. For one thing, Ginny wouldn't leave. She just kept sitting there, looking at him expectantly. And again, he found his mind gnawing on the issue of his friends' relationship—would he be left behind? Was he more of a child than they were, because he hadn't done those things yet?

Ginny cleared her throat, and Harry looked up. She looked quite a bit like Ron, really—red-haired and freckled, and subtly defiant, as if growing up with too many siblings and not enough money had instilled in her the urge to fight for anything she fancied. He gave her a tentative smile. "I—I really am sorry—about—_things,_" he said. "I mean, I like you, I do. You're like a sister to me, and—and I love you, in a brother-sister sort of way," he told her desperately.

She looked a bit surprised, her eyes widening, before she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Harry," she said. "I knew you did." She drew away and picked up her books, and Harry heard her mutter, "It's a start, anyway," before she went to change for practice.

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. Still not over him, then. He wondered what it would take.

OoOoOoOoO

Fawkes lit on the back of Snape's chair with a thump and a rustle of feathers. Snape, who had not been expecting a guest, and had been utterly absorbed in his work, started, dropping an entire jar of pseudoscorpions into his potion. "Damn and _blast_," he snarled. He dropped to his knees and took shelter under the table.

After a while, the acid rain stopped pouring. He crawled out, vanishing puddles of the toxic substance left and right. "You _ignorant _bird!" he fumed. "Have you no conception of how dangerous it is to interrupt a Potions Master at work? I could have been making _anything_! I could have rocked this school to its foundations! I could have blown us all to hell! I ought to wring your colourful neck, or yank your festive feathers out."

The phoenix gave the man a most un-intimidated sort of look, holding out one claw in a rather disdainful fashion. He did not, apparently, think overmuch of a little acid rain, nor of Potions Masters that leapt a good metre in the air and dropped things whenever they were disturbed. Snape noted that the bird had managed to avoid the deluge.

"Thank you," Snape said rather dryly as he took the parchment. "You may return to your master and tell him that his latest attempt to drive my wits out of me failed." The bird took flight, soaring gracefully into the Floo, which rather surprised Severus, as he'd never seen anyone who couldn't speak use one; he supposed phoenixes were magical enough to work them out. Fawkes disappeared in a shower of gold sparks.

"Show off," Severus muttered, unrolling the parchment.

_Severus,_

_There is an urgent issue that I must handle outside of Hogwarts today. I may not be back for a few days—in fact, I may not be back for a fortnight. Minerva will see to things in my absence. Some rather troublesome news was recently brought to me, and I'm afraid that, as long as you are under the influence of the Uninhibiting Elixir, you cannot be made privy to it in detail. _

_Suffice it to say that the stakes have risen. Voldemort has placed another spy within our walls—one close to Harry's age. I fear that the boy, trusting as he is, with a great desire to give and receive loyalty, is at risk. I know I've asked you to limit the time you spend with him, but I would appreciate knowing you're keeping an eye on things. Perhaps it would be best if you tried to instil a sense of discretion in the lad, should you be able to manage it._

_I know I ask much, but right now, much is asked of me, as well. We must all do our best._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Snape sneered at the paper. He wouldn't have been surprised if the man had signed off with 'Love and lemon drops, Albus.' Barmy old fool. Instil a sense of discretion? In _Potter? _When they weren't supposed to be seeing one another? _Certainly, Albus. And while we're at it, might I get you a pony? Perhaps some fluffy pink clouds? _

"Hullo, sir," a voice said, and Snape whirled. "Ready for your lesson?" Harry stood in the doorway, hair mussed from Quidditch. Snape began rolling the parchment back up and wondered where he ought to put it, or if he should simply burn the thing. "What's that?" The boy's sharp green eyes were following too closely.

Snape refused to look Harry in the eye. "Nothing. Less than nothing. A void, if you would, of anything."

"It looks like a piece of parchment."

"… They often do." Severus cast about for another topic of conversation, squirreling the paper away in his breast pocket. Should he tell the boy? What good would that do? He knew Potter would take not an ounce more care just because there was someone _else _trying to kill him. "Why are you here?" he asked unthinkingly.

Harry winced at his tone, and Snape had to swallow an apology. "Patronus? You? Can't make one? Ringing any bells?"

Severus scowled. He glanced about the lab, which was still dripping with caustic liquid. "Help me clean up," he ordered.

Harry smiled slightly, and Snape couldn't help but smile back.

Damn the boy. He really was irresistible.

Harry waved his wand at a chair, instantly cleaning it, then peeled off his robes and tossed them on the seat. Severus just gaped. "Well, come on. I'm not going to clean it all myself," Harry told him, looking rather irked. "This shit's got _everywhere, _and I don't want it ruining my school robes" He started near the door, systematically clearing a path. A patch of floor, a portion of wall, a bit of shelf became clean in moments, and then he carefully moved on to all the trinkets—the vials, the jars, the mortars and pestles—sitting on the shelf.

Severus turned his attention to his worktable, trying to focus. "I believe this is the first time I've seen you in quite this light," he admitted. "I have to wonder if you're not under Imperius, cheerfully cleaning my rooms."

"In the first place, I'm hardly singing 'Whistle While you Work'; in the second, _you're _the one who keeps making a mess of things. Thirdly, you _have _seen me clean before; you remember that time I blew up McGonagall's room trying to get you out of my head?"

Snape's lips twitched. "Then this is the first time I've seen you voluntarily clean up a mess that you hadn't made to begin with," he replied. "And what on earth do you mean by saying _I'm _the one who keeps making a mess of things? Utter rubbish."

Harry merely shrugged. "Oh, _dandy. _It's dripped all down behind this cabinet, you know. You'll be lucky if it hasn't eaten the back off." He reached behind it, trying to angle his wand. "Ouch!" he jerked back. "Fantastic; I've burnt myself on this goop, _and _I've dropped my wand behind the cabinet."

Snape, who'd been sadly probing his best cauldron, which appeared to be leaking at the bottom, glanced up. "We could move it, but we'd have to move everything inside it first, and that's where I store all of the smallest bottles. If you give me a few minutes, I'll _Accio _it out; but I don't want to do that until I've got all the…'goop,' as you so expressively put it, cleaned out of the way. I'm _not _being responsible for getting you a new wand because this one's got rolled through a bit of potion, and dissolved."

Harry looked disgruntled. "Never mind, I can get it myself." He got down on his knees and shoved an arm under the cabinet. Severus heard him hiss in pain, but ignored this in contemplation of the rather pleasant view.

"Dumbledore advised me that one of your friends is a spy," he blurted.

Harry sat back on his heels, looking up in astonishment. Half his shirtsleeve had been eaten away, but his wand seemed fine. "What?"

Snape sighed. "It's something I feel that you should be aware of. You keep saying we keep information from you, and that it causes you to make poor choices. Well, I happen to agree. I think—I…firmly believe that this is one instance where you _need _to arm yourself with the truth."

Harry swallowed. "Who is it?"

Reluctantly, Snape took the parchment out. "I don't know. The Headmaster doesn't feel it safe for me to have the information, so I'm as much at a loss as you are."

Harry quickly grabbed the note and skimmed over it. "Here, it doesn't say that it's one of my friends!" he protested. "It just says it's someone my age. It could be Crabbe or Goyle. It could be anybody."

"The Headmaster wouldn't worry about your naivety were that the case. Hell, most of the time, the man _encourages _it. It has to be someone with a chance at getting to you."

"That still doesn't mean it's a friend of mine. It could be Blaise. I bet it's Blaise. He's always following me around, and then flaring up at me for no reason. He's been acting moody and kind of suspicious lately."

"It's not Mister Zabini," Snape said flatly.

Harry gave him a dirty look. "What a pity that a good fuck apparently erases all your common sense," he responded bitterly.

He was shocked when the Potion Master slapped him.

"This isn't _personal, _you stupid boy!" the man told him. "This is war! I tell you, I have served Albus Dumbledore in this fight since before you were _born, _and I'm well capable of keeping impartial and maintaining a clear head, 'fucking' or no 'fucking.' I thoroughly resent any implications otherwise. And as for yourself and me, Potter, let me make one thing perfectly clear; whatever emotional issues we have, I am your _ally, _and deserve to be treated with some respect."

Harry blinked a bit, his cheek red. He looked as though he was fighting to keep his temper in check. "Fine. That wasn't…very mature of me. I suppose I deserved that. I struck out, and you struck back. Well done," he added coldly.

"I didn't hit you to hurt you," Snape said, full of quiet despair. "I simply don't have any way of forcing you to wake up and look at things more—more—_shrewdly_. You're not a fool, however often you act the part. I can _see _you're growing up, and I'm trying to meet you partway. It's _very _frustrating when you don't treat the situation with the regard that it warrants." He let out a long, slow breath. "I showed you the note from the Headmaster because you have shown, lately, a somewhat stronger sense of purpose and a certain amount of level-headedness. Do not make me regret my incaution by retreating to childish drama and senseless, emotional finger-pointing."

Harry seemed to think this over. "I did take responsibility. I'm not trying to be overemotional. It's—things are a bit hard on me right now. I _am _trying. I didn't mean to get…snippy. I just worry that being involved with Blaise could cloud your judgment in this matter." Snape raised an eyebrow. "What? Aren't I allowed two brain-cells to rub together? I _do _think about things—sometimes until my brain's going in circles and I'm ready to pass out. Look, the fact of the matter is that Blaise is in an excellent position to turn to Voldemort. He has all the connections, and the right incentives, and he's a two-faced bastard to boot. I don't care what you say—I'm keeping an eye on him."

Severus smiled, and Harry looked rather taken aback. "I never said you shouldn't. Frankly, I'm rather pleased that you're suspicious enough of _anyone _to keep them at arms length, regardless of my protests. But you _still _need to realize he's not the only possible suspect. I think it far more likely the spy is within Gryffindor itself, or Albus wouldn't seem so worried about it."

Harry frowned. "But if he _knows _who the spy is, why hasn't he—"

"I suspect he's setting a trap," Snape responded. "If the spy is in good standing—and really has your ear, or any chance of getting that close to you—the Headmaster may try to use this person to draw the Dark Lord out."

"Voldemort," Harry corrected without thinking, "And why hasn't he mentioned it to me, if that's the case? Don't I have to know what's going on in order for that to work?"

"To answer your first question, he hasn't mentioned it to you for the same reason he's kept most of the details from me—we are liabilities, Mister Potter. We know a great deal, and have too little control. My body is betraying me, and your Occlumency needs a good deal of work. To answer your second question, you don't necessarily have to know _anything. _The less you know, the less likely you are to frighten our prospective Judas away."

Harry rubbed his head. "God, not again."

"What?"

"Another headache. I got one earlier after reading about my third book today. And last night, when I fell asleep still pondering—er, things. I'm starting to think I'm thinking too much."

Snape gave a slight snort. "When Professor McGonagall commandeers one of the staircases to serenade us all with 'That Old Feeling,' while wearing a pink taffeta cocktail dress. Don't worry on that count, Mister Potter. But it's likely that the sheer _novelty _of the action is affecting your brain, so perhaps you'd best take a break. Why don't we finish cleaning? It doesn't require much brain power."

"You're terribly funny," Harry said, "but fine. And after cleaning and working on the Patronus, maybe we could work on my Occlumency?"

Snape had to work to cover his surprise. "Very well," he agreed. "If we have time."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry struggled under the weight of his books, hurrying to get to class. He was tired, and he was frustrated, and he was…well, some small part of him was rather content. He'd been working hard, and it was paying off, although not in quite the ways he'd hoped. He hadn't found a way to defeat Voldemort yet, but some of his grades had improved, and he knew more spells than he knew what to do with. Plus, last night Snape had complimented him once or twice, even though he'd insulted him just as much, and viciously.

He had better control over his Occlumency. Snape had noticed. In fact, Snape had been treating him…not _better, _exactly, but…_differently. _More like someone deserving of a say in matters. More like an adult. Harry couldn't help but grin a little at the thought. Even if they weren't sleeping together, the Potion Master's good opinion meant a lot to him.

He'd tried to quash any feelings of affection, but that didn't mean he had to quell admiration as well, did it? Harry had given the man a nod as he'd left, saying, _Thanks for your help. And…thank you, for trusting me enough to show me that note. _He'd expected Snape to glare and call him a sentimental dunce, but the man had only pinned him with a hard look, saying, _Don't you dare tell anyone else about it, you impetuous twit._ Then he nodded in return, as one soldier to another.

Harry was lost in his reminiscence as he stumbled to his first class of the day, his stomach rumbling. He'd chosen to skip breakfast in order to delve more deeply into a book of countercurses, and it was so fascinating that he was now seriously behind schedule.

He paused as a book at the top of his stack threatened to slide off, and he tried to shift his weight so it settled in a better position. He could hear angry voices up ahead, and he wondered who they were. The halls were nearly empty. "You're being so _thick_!" someone was hollering. "Why do I even bother to teach you to protect yourself, if you don't care enough to protect yourself from _him?_"

Harry managed to lodge the top book under his chin, and hurried round the corner to see Colin and Blaise in a red-faced, fist-clenching standoff. They stood about two metres apart, facing each other squarely, feet planted like they expected to come to blows.

"You don't know _anything,_" Colin said. "He's my _friend! _I don't understand how the concept of friendship could be so completely foreign to you! And I'm not being stupid! I'm just being _me! _If you can't accept that—if you can't accept that—!" he broke off, scowling and rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve, choking back a snuffle.

"I'm NOT TELLING YOU TO STOP BEING YOURSELF!" Blaise roared. "I'm trying to—to keep you from getting hurt! I'm trying to get you to see that what you're doing isn't _healthy!_"

"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded. Blaise spun, wand in hand, and Harry dropped his books in the scramble to get to his own wand. "Oh, SOD!" he snarled. "Look what you've done!"

"_I _wasn't the one butting into a private argument!" Zabini snapped in response, apparently deciding Harry wasn't a threat, and putting his wand away. "Can't you mind your own business?"

"When you're standing in the hall, verbally abusing one of my friends at the top of your lungs, it _is _my business!" Harry insisted.

"Do you even _hear _yourself?" Zabini replied indignantly. "You barely take note of his existence most of the time, and I'm hardly standing here directing ethnic slurs or spiteful taunts at him."

"That's enough," Colin interrupted. "We're late for class." Blaise turned, but Colin walked past him, kneeling to help Harry pick up his books. Blaise, with an aggravated look, clenched his teeth and marched away.

"Thanks, Colin," Harry said. "What was that all about, anyway?"

Colin didn't meet his eyes. "Nothing," he replied. "Come on; I'll carry some of these to class for you."

Harry grinned. "Very gallant of you, Mister Creevey. But won't you be late to your own class?" he added, as Colin walked him toward the Defence rooms. He felt strangely satisfied that Colin was blushing again.

"Don't worry about it," the boy said. "Friends are there to help each other out. Right?"

Harry nodded, his smile softening. "Right. I can get it from here," he added, as they came up to the door.

As Colin set the last book on top of the stack, Harry pressed his lips to the boy's cheek. Colin squeaked, and flushed more brightly. "I'd better go," he said, in a nervous, giggly voice.

"Yeah. Thanks again," Harry said. He turned to go into class.

"Harry!" Remus said in a rather stressed-out sort of voice. "You're late. I was starting to get worried about you," he added.

"Sorry!" Harry gave him a contrite grin. "I was too busy reading up on defensive spells to get to Defence on time, if you can believe it, and I kept dropping my books, and you know how we can't use magic in the corridors."

The rest of the class was staring as Harry manoeuvred his way to his seat and plunked the stack on his desk. They overbalanced, sliding off the front like a waterfall.

"But what do you need all these books for?" Professor Lupin asked, confounded.

Harry paused. "Can I tell you after class?"

Remus seemed to realize that Harry wasn't joking around. "All right," he said eventually. "But clean up that mess. And ten points from Gryffindor, for worrying your already beleaguered Professor."

**A/N: Thanks to:  
**Hoshiko-Malfoy: Yeah, I do have a taste for cliffies. But that's okay; there's lots of plot and action coming up, I promise!  
Carla: Thanks! I'm leaving town for a while soon, but hopefully I'll get another chapter out after that.  
The Greymalkin: Well, yeah, I AM evil! Thanks for noticing! ; )  
Aribella: Aw, Harry's cute when he's pretending to be all grown up, too. Like a kid wearing her mom's high heels. (pictures Harry in high heels) Interesting….nah.  
Tris the weatherwitch: I was never one for large groups of people myself—unless I had enough alcohol in me to take the edge off, but I can appreciate that it's difficult to pull that off in a school setting… At any rate, I'm afraid I only get more evil in the future, which is unlike a certain someone…  
Aki: Only if you're rich and British, m'dear. Those are the main qualifications I'm looking for in a potential spouse. That way, I'd be able to write all day….(sighs) Someday, my prince will come. And he will look and act like Richard Merrill, hopefully.  
Klondike Bar: Hey, now, settle down. The cardboard has a right to live too, you know! Besides, there's more to Colin than meets the eye. 'Course, that might just make you want to punch him _harder…  
_im-a-daydream-believer: Ah, how well I remember my Peter Forsberg shrine. More than two hundred pictures, and that was _before _we had the internet, thank you very much. Damn him to hell for joining Philly! Rat bastard, money-grubbing sticking gorgeous sexy slashy Swede! Where was I…?  
Sbyamibakura: My goodness! Save something for the climax! Literally! ; )  
Chantelli: You misunderstand, my love, the Snarry is alive and kicking, it's just having to develop and work through yummy UST. Which is my favorite bit, o'course. And ponies and pink fluffy clouds? Are those on the table, as well?  
BabeGia103: Well, I tend to make him oblivious, but I'm trying to sharpen him up just a bit…  
Lutheyl: (laughs) Well, if Ginny makes you want to hit her upside the head with a tube sock full of wood screws, I've done my job well. Same with Blaise. Same with Harry and Snape, really. If they aren't aggravating you, it isn't true love.  
Kelei: ; )  
Lotrobsession: Thanks! (bows and doffs hat)  
Lady Darkness13: Well, I think we're just at the bit where Harry learns to appreciate other things about Snape's company, aside from the snogging and promise of sex. Sadly, all relationships come to this point. Luckily, there's won't last forever!  
potter-DorK: Oh, you make me want to give an evil laugh! Oh, Colin, you devil you! Mwahahahaha!  
And the Jazzy Jenonymous: Well, we all had to learn the word at some point! It's just…Snape, or Snapish. Snape-ish? Meh. Ooooh, no kids for me. I have two very young (six and eight) brothers that I can borrow whenever I like, and a dose of them kills off that instinct mighty quickly. They're dolls though, and well behaved—for me, anyway. But they scream and run around like maniacs at home, and ooze unpleasant substances from various orifices. (But Nick is sooooo cute and tells everyone he wants to be a writer like his Sissy. May he never find this fic, unless he happens to turn out to be gay or extremely open-minded.) I love Harry when he's a bit ditzy, but moments of great insight and maturity are good depth. Oh—and permit me? MWAHAHAHAHA! (And no, I _won't _say why!)


	15. Creeveys Are People, Too

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Fifteen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry drops things, Snape receives a letter and an unexpected visit, and Harry and Lupin have a chat.

**Chapter Fifteen: Creeveys Are People, Too**

"Harry, I'll have to see you this evening after supper."

Harry, who'd been in the process of organizing his books as the rest of the class filed out, looked up. "Why?" he asked Remus, surprised.

"Because I need to get the Grindylows ready for the third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, so I haven't time to meet with you now."

"I could help you set up," Harry offered.

Remus gave him a small smile. "And be late for your next class, too? Detention with me this evening, instead. I'll even give the House points back."

Harry sighed, but nodded. He struggled to lift his monstrous stack of texts, trailing after Ron and Hermione, who were walking hand in hand, heads bent together as they laughed over some couples thing. Harry frowned.

"Here. Let me help," a steely voice ordered.

He blinked at Zabini, who pulled the top couple of books from the stack. "What are you doing?"

"I'll escort you to your next class. We need to talk." Zabini led the way out of the room, and a puzzled Harry nodded goodbye to Lupin before following. He couldn't imagine what the deuce the tramp was up to now.

They fell behind the other students, and Harry couldn't help giving his companion many suspicious glances. Was Blaise trying to get Harry alone in order to hex him? Was he trying to lead Harry into a trap? Should he try to get at his wand? "What the hell do you _want?_" Harry finally asked, exasperated that Blaise hadn't said anything more.

The boy bit his lip, looking at Harry indecisively. "Look, I…this isn't…I'm not sure how to start," he admitted.

"If you have something to say, just _say it,_" Harry instructed. He _hated _having his hands full, so that he couldn't defend himself. Just the idea made him sweat.

Zabini merely frowned. "Fine," he replied. "What exactly are your intentions with regards to Colin Creevey?"

Harry tripped over nothing, dropping a couple of books, which Zabini reluctantly retrieved. "My _what?_" Harry responded.

Blaise took a deep breath, tucking the books under his arm. "What do you want with him? You've never given a toss about him before, and you _know _he's mad about you. Now that Snape is…out of the picture, are you moving on to Creevey? Or is this all just a sick ga—I mean, or are you just on the rebound?"

Harry was furious. He could barely see straight. "Why should I tell you? Why do you keep bothering me about Colin? It's none of your business! Do _you _want to shag Colin Creevey?" he asked with a sneer.

Blaise reeled. "You—shut it! It's none of your business! You're just playing sick games with him anyway!" he hollered.

Harry's heart began to cease its livid racing as comprehension dawned. He stared at Blaise for a long moment. "You _do _want to shag him, don't you?" he said quietly.

"No! You idiot! I—"

"Harry! What's going on? You're going to be late!" Hermione chided, her head poking out of the Charms classroom. "Again! You aren't fighting, are you?" she asked the boys.

"No," Blaise said sullenly. He shoved his small stack of books at Harry, who fumbled, trying to juggle the ones he still held with the ones Blaise was giving him.

"Yes—er, _no, _Hermione, but—wait—Blaise," he stuttered, as Zabini sauntered away. Harry thought it might be his imagination, but Blaise's saunter seemed to be more show and less confidence than usual.

"_Harry,_" Hermione hissed. "Hurry!"

Grumbling under his breath about cryptic rivals who apparently wanted to steal _everyone _away from him, Harry gave up and went to class.

OoOoOoOoO

It took Severus several seconds to register the tapping on his window. Few people sent owls to his private chambers, both because their location wasn't widely advertised and because those who knew of them were _strongly _discouraged from doing so. The one time Potter had suggested it, Severus informed him that it would be a _dandy _idea, so long as the boy had a powerful desire to claim the title the Boy Who Walked Oddly. The subject was not broached again.

Thus it was with no small amount of trepidation that he made his way on unsteady legs to throw back the grimy curtains. Un-jamming the window required the use of numerous spells. The glass was too dirty, and it was too dim outside to get a clear look at the bird. Eventually, there was a shriek of protest from the frame, and the window opened.

Snape stared as the owl tumbled into the room, a strangely lopsided rhythm to its wing beats. One claw was shrivelled and useless, and the other clutched a bit of parchment. He'd seen this owl before. It was a reliable bird, tough and experienced, much like its owner. Hurrying forward, Snape grabbed at the paper so the owl could be allowed to land.

He didn't offer it anything in return. He knew it wouldn't have accepted anything. It was that kind of owl.

Unfolding the parchment, he read the inelegant scrawl, his face was blanching to the same colour as the paper. "Oh, fuck all," he muttered angrily, sinking into a seat.

He supposed he ought to get back to his experiments, but knew better than to do so when he was this distracted. Instead, he pried a bottle of Firewhisky from the boggart in the liquor cabinet and went to hide in his bed. It was his last safe refuge.

For now, anyway.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaise nervously approached the group of Gryffindors. He knew perfectly well that they despised him. Particularly the Weasley twits, who resented anyone taking their Harry's time or attention away from them.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, and the study group looked up in surprise. The only person who didn't look vaguely hostile was Creevey, and Blaise had to suppose this was only because the poor little thing didn't know any better.

"What do _you _want?" Ginny asked, her features twisted by an unladylike sneer.

"Nothing," he replied. "It's only that when I ran into Potter in the hallway earlier, he dropped his books, and…he missed one," Blaise finished lamely, holding up the slim volume.

"_Twentye Rare Potions," _Granger read aloud, accepting the book. "I wonder what he was looking at Potions for?"

"You'd know better than me," Blaise shrugged. "Anyway, if you could give that back to him…See you around," he added, when no one really responded one way or another.

"Wait, you could help!" Colin chirped.

"_Colin,_" Ginny growled, chastisement coating her throat.

"He's a _Death Eater,_" Ron chimed in. "And this is top secret stuff!"

"You're both wrong," Colin said firmly. "Blaise is really great and nice and helps me with my Defence homework, and I don't believe he's a Death Eater. I think he'd be a big help."

Despite himself, Blaise felt his cheeks begin to glow. "Er, maybe," he allowed. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something that would help Harry defeat Voldemort," Hermione explained.

Colin nodded eagerly. "Yeah, you know—anything that might give him an edge."

"Well…I suppose that's a pretty good idea," Blaise agreed. A sidelong look at Ginny let him know that she was bloody furious, and that was as good a reason to stay as any. "Okay, I'll help," he said with false cheer. The way the Weasleys' faces fell raised his spirits a little. It beat wandering the halls and brooding, in any case. And who knew, he might just find something useful.

OoOoOoOoO

"I think you're being too rough on him," a quiet voice informed Harry.

Harry, who was in the act of cleaning the chalkboard, looked up in surprised. "Who? Blaise or Severus?" He kept his face averted. Severus had not been in class today, and they'd had a wispy little witch as a substitute. It wouldn't do for Remus to know he was worried about the man.

"Severus. Well, both, really," Remus amended judiciously.

"I don't really want to talk about this," Harry groused. "I'm not doing anything horrible to Snape. Nothing more horrible than he's done to me, anyhow. If he wants to push me away all the time, he's going to have to deal with the consequences when I let him."

Remus shook his head. "It's a lot more complicated than that."

"No, it's not. If he loves me, then he should trust me, and—"

"And that ought to work both ways."

Now Harry was getting angry. "I'm not a child anymore! He can't protect me forever!"

"None of us can!" Remus returned, sounding just a little angry himself. "That doesn't mean we oughtn't try!"

"Oh, Remus," Harry said, his anger melting away with a sigh. "I know you have good intentions, but…you don't understand."

"Neither do you," Remus told him gently. "It's because you're in an entirely different stage of life. It's all very simple for you right now—good and bad, black and white, love and hate."

"You think my life is _simple?_ What the hell kinds of hexes have you taken to the head lately?"

"I don't think your life is simple. I think your _outlook on life _is simple. You think the surface of things is what's important, but it's not. It's what's underneath that—"

Harry got a strange look on his face.

"What's the—?" Remus began.

"Wait a second. I'm thinking. I…think…that's important. I don't know why. Damn. Something's been nagging at me lately. Never mind, I'll remember eventually. Anyway, where were we? Oh…_look_, Remus, Snape treats me like I'm not responsible enough to be told the truth, and he pushes me away whenever things get too dangerous, and he never tries to see things from my point of view. We always play by his rules, and I'm sick of it. I haven't done anything wrong here; he dumped me, and I'm okay with it. All I want is for people to be a little understanding."

Remus was silent for a while. "I understand that Harry, but Severus is going through some difficulties right now, too, and could probably use the same thing. And I'm not saying that he was particularly nice, and I know he hurt you…all I'm saying is that I think he did the right thing."

"Thanks, Miss Agony Aunt," Harry grumbled. "Could you lay off the relationship advice for a bit? You know, I was hoping to tell you about Voldemort."

Now Remus was looking worried. "What about Voldemort?"

"We're looking for a plan of attack—Ron and Ginny and I, and even Colin's been helping, and Seamus and Jack, whenever they're not making out in the bathroom."

"Harry, _do not _attempt to go after Voldemort. You're only half-trained, and he's extremely cunning and wicked."

"Yeah, yeah, the wicked wizard of the west; he's also ruining my life. If I can't get rid of the bastard, I'm doomed to a lifetime—however much of one it _is_—of desperate loneliness, as I give up boyfriend after boyfriend in order to protect them from his crazed, Harry-obsessed wrath."

"Mm-hmm. Much like a certain Potions Master?"

Harry frowned. "Well, I guess…great, now I'm starting to feel guilty. Would you please stop that? I have enough issues without that right now. I need to figure out how to kill Voldemort. I think it'll be easy—"

"Please don't say such things. You're not thinking this through."

"You're not letting me finish! I meant that I think, once we've done the preparation, it will be easy to kill him. I think the difficult bit will be making him vulnerable. All right? So we're just researching ways of increasing his vulnerability. We're not planning to do anything—yet."

Remus sighed. "You know, perhaps I oughtn't have objected to your relationship with Severus quite so strenuously. He's the only one I know who can talk you out of such foolishness when you've built up a head of steam."

"Oh, come on. You're just jealous, you know. You envy my problem-solving capabilities."

Remus shut his eyes. "Yes, that must be it."

OoOoOoOoO

_Thud. Thud._

"Mnmph nmph. My desk or yours, Potter?" Severus mumbled in his sleep. "Mmmm. You can fit _under_ the desk, too."

_Thud. _

Snape rolled over and fell of the couch, flinching awake at the pain in his hip as he landed none too gracefully on the floor. Where was he? What happened? Oh…right. The letter. Running out of Firewhisky. Going to get more. Getting into a wrestling competition with the Boggart over the last bottle of Old Ogden's. Passing out on the couch nigh two in the morning. Or something. Could have been five. The hours and days blended together when one was confined to one's rooms for threatening Longbottom with a Doppleganger, thereby forcing the boy to endure his own hideous company.

_Thud. _

What _was _that blasted noise? Sitting up, he realized it was coming from the door. Quasimodo, the owl, was still recuperating from his journey on a perch near the hearth, his head tucked under his wing, his ear tufts twitching.

Cautiously, Severus drew his wand. He got to his feet, and the room rocked back and forth for a long, teetering moment before settling down into something resembling a straight plane. Stealthily, Snape stumbled to the door.

With _Avada Kedavra _on his lips, he unlocked the knob and threw open the door. He had to swallow the words and bite down harshly on his tongue, overriding the instincts that insisted he follow through with the curse. God almighty, he nearly killed the Creevey boy. Sweating, he snarled at the brat.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"Do you love him?"

Snape tossed a lock of lank hair out of his face. "What are you on about?"

"Do—do you love Harry? Really love him? I—want to know the truth."

Snape wanted to say, 'I'd prefer to expectorate in Potter's general direction than look straight at him, if that gives you a clue,' but what came out was, "I want to drag him down to my dungeons and spank him until he's rosy red and then kiss it better, and _yes, _damn you, you vicious little beast, I salivate at the thought of him, so I suppose I love him, as much as an old crook like me ever _could_ love anyone."

The boy looked sadly up at him, his blond curls dishevelled. "Yes, I rather thought you did. If you didn't…he kissed me, you know. It was really great. I never thought he would. But then…I don't think he was thinking about me. I—I always…looked up to him. He's so terrific, you know? He's brave and he's handsome, and he's really kind of shy, which is rather cute…er, sorry," Colin murmured when he noticed Snape's patented GLARE OF DEATH was turned on him, full force.

Snape, for his part, felt that only a Creevey, a Potter, or some other cretin of a Gryffindor would have taken so long to feel the effects of said glare, which had been known to make inanimate objects burst into flame.

"What was the point of all this, then?"

Colin seemed to think this over. "I was at a crossroads," he said softly. He mumbled something about leaves not trodden, and sighed. "I was just trying to see if I'd made the right decision."

Snape arched a brow. "And did you?"

"Yes, Professor. Did you?"

Snape blinked. "What do you mean by that?" he grated out, his voice harsh with fear.

"Are you going to tell him? That you love him, I mean?"

The man shrugged his narrow shoulders uncomfortably. "Eventually, perhaps. Unless I can avoid it."

Colin merely shook his head, and turned away. He was gone before Severus could take points, leaving the befuddled, groggy Potions Master with time on his hands and a lot to think about.

It was probably time to tell Lupin about the contents of the correspondence he'd received. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Absent lovers, obnoxious Creeveys in the middle of the night, and abasing himself to a werewolf. Life just kept getting better and better.

**Thanks to:**

BabyGia: Oh, SATs are easier than they make you think they'll be. Just stay cool.  
Chrliii: Things are always darkest before the dawn, you know. Or in really deep closets.  
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: The next chapter is far more fun, I assure you.  
potter-DorK: Oh, good. Always nice to encounter a fellow evillee, or employee of evil.  
Aribella: (laughs) This is true! And he's FAR worse than Harry in the next chapter!  
Chantelli: And there should be free Jason Isaacs to fanfiction writers, but alas, there are not. I was annoyed by non-canon stuff in the last one, but now I'm annoyed with canon in the HBP, so bring on the non-canon! Especially if it's dirty!  
Hoshiko-Malfoy: Oh, how I wish this had a soundtrack. A porno sax would erupt every time Zabini entered a room, much to Snape's annoyance, and Colin's confusion!  
Cortamone: No, no, I need no muffins; I'd prefer it if you offered liposuction. I'm glad you got that! Harry's not exactly heartless, he's just not very sensitive to other people yet. I think I was the same way at his age. He's sure sensitive to Snape, though! Er, sometimes.  
Aki: Your grandmother doesn't count. Mine is dead. Does that mean I'm dead? No. Do not confuse yourself with your grandmother. It will only lead to heartache. (g)  
Sbyamibakura: But I like Blaise punished-in-a-good-way! With a mini horsewhip. And I liked Gravi but loved Fake…and my favorite character was J.J., so there. Yes, J.J. I want a J.J.xColin story, you know that? That'd be fun.  
Tris the weatherwitch: And THEN I updated LATE. Sorry, birthday came and went, and I went out of town, and then I came down with an infection and swelled up like a puffer fish on steroids. But I'm much better now. Seriously. Oh! Oh! Wink wink and nudge nudge, and that's all I'm gonna say. HarryxSev…oh, SEV, not Sex, action next chap. Me and my clumsy fingers!  
Lutheyl: Well, 'cause Harry's feeling rather insecure, and having his very own male cheerleader is soothing. And you pretty much called the next chapter, btw.  
Purplepaper: Or did I just not notice your review? I get busy, too, and overlook stuff. Yes, many scenarios! Wahahaha!  
Jenonymous: You know, I haven't been writing Snape as well as usual. But that's okay, 'cause the chapter after next should be a lot of fun, with Snape on the town. Woo-hoo! Snape on the rocks! Snape in socks! Okay…P.M.S. and vodka do not a coherent Starry make. Hmm. I like that. I'm gonna twist it and give it to Snape. See, you've inspired me!  
Kelei: Yes, master.  
And the Succulent Sweet Mercy: They have their ups and downs, together or not. That's the Snarry, my friend. And there's certainly more to Colin than meets the eye, but that's all I'm gonna say!


	16. Would You Like Catsup With That Foot?

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Sixteen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Severus is losing control. Harry is losing his mind. Hermione had better be as smart as she thinks she is, or it's the end of the Snape as we know it.

**Chapter Sixteen: Would You Like Catsup to go with that Foot in your Mouth?**

Severus waited until the following evening to approach Lupin. He assumed he'd be safe enough then; all the little myopic monsters with tight arses and cheeky smiles would be off cavorting with their friends and admirers. Hopefully.

Thinking of admirers, Snape remembered Creevey, and felt suddenly less hopeful. He wasn't entirely certain what the boy had been on about the previous evening. He'd had more Firewhisky than was strictly good for him—or for anyone outside of a large centaur with a stomach of lead, for that matter—and aside from that, his wildly vacillating emotions and complete inability to restrain himself from doing _anything _made it rather difficult to concentrate.

All he could be certain of was that Creevey was in love with Potter, and had invaded his chambers to tell him so. There was a weak possibility the boy intended to give up the ghost, but Severus didn't hold it likely. After all, wasn't he being tutored by Blaise Zabini, the perfect candidate to teach How to Fuck Over Everyone—and Make Them Like It? Besides, he was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors did not admit defeat. Most of them couldn't even spell it.

He rounded the corner.

"Come on, it's _perfect!_" Harry's dulcet voice was contending. "Just look it over—_please._"

"Harry Potter, I told you to _stop _this," Remus growled. "I'm confiscating this book, and you'll not be getting it back until you've proven to me that you're intelligent enough to see the flaws in your plan. _And _you've got detention for the next _month. _With me!"

A door slammed, and Snape shuddered. He rarely heard the werewolf's voice sound so upset. He didn't like Lupin when he got frightened or angry—it didn't bring out the best in the man, and it brought forth the _worst _memories from Snape's mind. He was just deciding that he should leave and try McGonagall instead, when Harry came into view.

The boy stopped, blinking up at him in an astonished and all-too-becoming fashion. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sir," Snape tacked on automatically.

Harry looked uncertain at this correction, but amended, "Sir?"

Snape swallowed. "I—nothing." He turned his head and tried to sidle past the boy, his strides somehow lacking their typical bluster and billow.

Harry grabbed his arm. This was a mistake. "Wait. I needed to tell you—"

Snape rounded on him, eyes flashing, and Harry took a large step back. "_Run_," Severus choked out, furious with himself. And _this _was a mistake, too, when speaking to a Gryffindor.

Harry's chin stuck out. "Why should I?" he asked suspiciously.

Severus felt exasperation bubble up in his chest, mixed with an irritating level of affection for the brat. "Because otherwise, I will do _this,_" he snarled, taking Harry's chin firmly in his long fingers and tilting it up. His mouth stifled any protest the boy might have made, lips capturing Potter's roughly. Soon, his tongue was delving into Harry's gasp of surprise, following it down into the boy's mouth, taking possession of the wet, soft cavern.

There was a muffled sound from the boy, and one of Harry's hands pressed at Snape's shoulder, weakly attempting to push him away. With a grunt of indignation, Snape captured the slender wrist, encircling it with his fingers, pulling the boy's hand away. He took Harry's shoulder with his other hand and shoved hard, pushing Harry back against the wall, ignoring the feeble struggle the boy made. This was good. This was _perfect. _This was what he'd wanted all along; the taste of this boy, the power, the surrender. He pressed against that slender body, all sinew and softness and sex. Snape felt a storm of emotion quaking through him, and he kissed the boy passionately, recklessly, taming and tasting Harry's tongue.

Harry's body had already responded, and Snape thrust once against the hardness he felt against his thigh, causing a rather high-pitched moan of anticipation and dissent to be rent from that beautiful throat.

Severus pulled away to gulp down a breath of air. "I love you, damn you," he said hoarsely.

"Yes, but—"

"And I want you. _Now._"

"Oh, but you're not—"

"Shut up, blast you, Potter. Pants off!"

Harry's expression went from distracted to horrified. "Here? Now? You're joking!"

With a growl, Snape yanked at Potter's tie. "Need—you—" he rasped.

"Oh, _God,_" Harry groaned, as Snape yanked him forward and began mauling him—or at least suckling at the boy's neck. "No," Harry said so softly that it seemed a cross between a whimper and a whisper.

A bone-deep shudder went through Snape's body, followed by a cold moment of sober fear. He pulled away and stared into Harry's eyes.

"I'm going to call for Remus now," Harry panted, his eyes sombre. "You need help, Snape. You and I aren't seeing each other anymore. You remember thatdon't you?"

Severus swallowed and nodded, clenching his teeth and wrapping his arms tightly round himself to mitigate the uncontrollable shivering.

"Good, so your memory isn't affected, then. But this is too much. You can't sexually assault students in the hall."

"You _want_ me," Severus asserted, his voice so harsh that he didn't recognise it.

Harry gave him a long, cool look. "No, I don't," he said. "And while you think you want me, what you really want is some help." He stepped away, drawing his wand. "Remus! Remus! Professor Lupin, _help!_" he shouted, keeping his wand on Snape.

Severus could barely focus. The room had begun to spin, a kaleidoscope of colour and chill. "Harry…" he whispered, sinking to his knees.

Dimly, he saw Harry turn his head, consternation written on his face. His mouth moved, but Snape couldn't hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

"Help," he tried to beg, fear coursing through him.

Harry went white, one arm reaching out toward the Potions Master.

Before the boy touched him, Severus slumped forward, the hallway floor rising up to meet his cheek.

OoOoOoOoO

"It might be _my _fault," Colin was saying fretfully.

Hermione and Ron, used to his endless chatter, weren't even listening, but Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth would you say that?"

Colin looked down at his shoes. Harry was still hovering outside the hospital ward, and Ginny had refused to leave his side, but everyone else had been banished to the library, where they would be forced to stay calm so that Madam Pince didn't guillotine anyone for unnecessary amounts of noise.

"I went to see him. Um. Since he wasn't in class, I thought he might be upset about Harry, and…I just wanted to know the truth, that's all," Colin said miserably.

Blaise stiffened. "Don't be stupid. As terrifying as you are, I think it would take more than the sight of Colin Creevey to send Snape into a collapse. Did you get the truth, then?" he asked venomously. "It never occurred to you that there's more than _one _truth, depending on who's looking at it? One man's truth is another man's—a—another man's—idealistic _nonsense?_" he asked, his voice rising.

"Hush," Hermione scolded, finally looking up from her paper. Since classes were cancelled, she'd thrown all of her energy into looking for something to cure the stricken Potions Master. "And be nice to Colin," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"I do know that, actually," Colin replied, just a little haughtily. "There are lots of truths. One is that you can love more than one person at the same time," he added quietly, his expression unsure.

Blaise blinked. "I suppose a Gryffindor might. Gryffindors believe in stupid things like love," he scoffed bitterly.

"If you don't want to hang out with Gryffindors, why don't you go back to the rest of the deviants and freaks, then," Weasley raged, his face red.

"_Ron!_" Hermione squawked, alarmed. "Stop it! Just calm down; he isn't worth it. Really, I don't know why you and Harry let him get such a rise out of you."

"He doesn't get a _rise _out of me!" Ron replied in a panic. "He just makes me ill, that's all!"

"Oooh. I think I've found something," Hermione interrupted, her attention already diverted by her book. "The first chapter in this Potions book is all about dispelling blockages! It talks about brain chemistry…and about potions that act on a molecular level to…"

As she droned on, Ron and Blaise glared at each other, their faces filled with the desire to do violence. As long as Harry and Snape were with Pomfrey, the fragile truce would hold…but soon, Slytherin and Gryffindor would clash.

Hermione read on, Colin hanging over her shoulder, both completely oblivious to the impending conflict.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry sat with his head in his hands, while Remus stood nearby. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp, and every now and then he'd let out a long, frustrated breath.

Finally, he looked over at the student. "Harry," he said, "I know this is a difficult time for you. It can't have been easy watching Severus…like that," he added with a gesture to indicate the man's general direction. Harry glared at the man. By the time Remus had arrived, Snape had gone into convulsions, and Harry was numb with shock and horror. It wasn't entirely fair, but Harry couldn't help but blame the werewolf. If only he'd gotten there a _little _sooner… "That never gave you the right to take that book," Remus muttered, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Remus shook his head. "I'm really beginning to worry about you. The Harry I know would never have used such a situation for his own gain. I expect that book back in my hands by the end of the day, do you understand?"

Harry's mouth went dry. "What are you _saying_? Are you accusing me of sneaking back into your room and stealing that Potions book you took away? Seriously? That's—that's a load of old cack and you know it!" he hollered, leaping to his feet, his fists clenched.

Remus looked nonplussed. "Harry, if you didn't take it—"

"Someone else must've! I didn't! I _swear_," he added with exasperation when the man still looked doubtful. Harry felt something heavy land on his shoulder.

"Innocent fer now, Lupin," Hagrid's voice boomed out. "Ain't he? Ain't that righ'? I'd a thought we 'a learned our lesson, 'bout judging people we didn't know fer sure to be guilty," he added, "considerin' wha' happened to Sirius an' myself. Let the boy be. I believe yer, Harry," he said more quietly.

Harry sagged against Hagrid's solid weight, letting the half-giant's arm support him. It was terrible to think that Remus, of all people, thought him capable of hurting Snape in order to get something he wanted. Did he really seem that callous? But the remark about Sirius seemed to have struck its mark, as the werewolf now looked rather abashed.

"Yes, of course Hagrid," he was saying. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm sure no one else knew it was there—"

"Loads of people knew I was going to show it to you," Harry said. "I told most of the Gryffindors, and I didn't tell anyone to keep it secret or anything. And I bet Colin told Blaise, that rat," he added with irritation.

"All right," said Remus with a frown. "Not that it helps us figure out who took it," he sighed.

Ron and Hermione ran up, Hermione's bushy hair bouncing, her eyes shining, a grim smile on her face. "I think I've got it," she said. "I really think I've got it this time. But I need into Snape's rooms, and—"

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked, looking around.

"Not _now, _Ron," Harry remonstrated.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. You're not in love with Batman at all anymore, are you?"

"_Batman_?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"That's funny, Ron, because in the Muggle world, Batman is a character who—"

"Hermione! Not now!" Harry yelped.

"I think Professor McGonagall has the keys to Severus' rooms," Lupin said. "Please fetch her, Hagrid."

In Dumbledore's absence, Hagrid was always grateful for a strong hand and a sense of direction. "Righ' yeh are, Professor," he said, hurrying off with as much alacrity as his bulk would allow.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Please tell me you're sure this time."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry leaned over Severus anxiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Wretched, you infuriating, alluring little beast—and stop asking that!" Snape clenched his teeth together and massaged his temples with his fingertips. At least the double dose of Hermione's older potion seemed to be keeping him sane while they awaited her to finish brewing her latest idea.

And in the meantime, Snape was saying some absolutely fascinating things. Harry was fairly sure that one or both of them was going to be kicked out of the school before the day's end, but it was nearly worth it to hear the unmitigated filth coming from the Potions Master's mouth.

McGonagall had elected to assist Hermione after a particularly detailed sonnet to the flexibility of Harry's legs, but Remus refused to leave them alone, although he seemed to have been shocked into silence. Pomfrey had tried making Harry leave, but this induced a tirade from Snape so furious that she seemed to rethink her position, worrying that the man might rupture something.

If only Snape were _always _like this.

"I find it _particularly _irksome the way you wear your hair," the man suddenly noted with a wince.

Harry nervously tried to flatten it. "Er. Really? Sorry. Why?"

"Because it's _endearing, _and makes you look even younger than you are, and because you don't do it on purpose the way your father did, and I think that's the worst thing about it!" he exclaimed.

Harry glanced at Remus, confused. "Oh. Ah. Like I said, sorry about that. I think. What else do you hate about me?" he asked as an afterthought.

Snape closed his eyes, as if in pain. "Your lips. They're too shapely, too pink. And those little breathy moans you make when I suck on your tongue—those drive me straight round the bend. And the way you never manage to button your robes correctly, and it makes me want to rip them off of you—"

"_Severus,_" Professor Lupin hissed in a warning tone.

"_And button them correctly, _I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted," Snape finished with a hint of a smirk. "And you, Lupin, are an unmitigated bastard. There were countless ways you could have made my life easier growing up, but you always chose the coward's route. No wonder everyone thought you were the spy. And now, just when you had a chance to make it pax, you refuse to let me bugger James' son, which I really feel is the least that you could do."

Harry covered his mouth to smother a sudden attack of giggles.

"Really, Severus, I can't wait for you to go back to being your old, reserved self," Remus retorted, looking equally disturbed and ruffled.

"You seem to be feeling better. I'm glad," Harry said, smiling.

"Don't do that," Snape pleaded, looking away.

"What?"

"That smile that—lights up the room! You do it on purpose! You're trying to seduce me! You're at your worst when you're being charming and cheerful and giving people that winsome, adorable look, captivating them with your god-awful appeal. Just stop being…_cute,_" the man sneered. He really did look rather flustered, like he didn't quite understand the words coming out of his own mouth, and Harry felt a bit sorry for him. "Everyone wants you," Snape added in a strangely gloomy voice.

"Oh, please. Sure, there's nothing like having a great ugly scar in the middle of your head, a stature just better than that of a lawn gnome, and a hairstyle that looks like it's been done courtesy of a Cuisinart to inspire lust in everyone around you," Harry told him, stroking the back of Snape's hand.

McGonagall strode into the room, her shoulders thrown back with pride. An assortment of students and teachers followed her, including Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Colin and Blaise, as well as Hagrid and Professor Flitwick, all looking excited.

"Oh, come to stare at the bloodcurdling beast that _is _the Potions Master?" Snape inquired curtly. "Feeding time is right around noon, if you'd like to watch him indulge his bloodlust. But if you're a mother with a small child, I'd not let it wander too close to the cage; he's been known to _sexually assault _them," he grumbled, giving Harry a baleful look.

"I'm _sorry_," Harry responded, kneading his hands together. "I didn't realize how badly off you were! I wasn't trying to be mean!"

"Ignore him, Mister Potter," McGonagall instructed. "Miss Granger believes she has the solution at hand, so hopefully we'll soon have our cranky, horrible Severus Snape restored to us."

"Belt up," he growled at her.

"Professor Snape?" a small voice asked, and Colin Creevey pushed his way through the astonished crowed gathered around the man. "I just wanted to apologize. I should have left you alone the other night."

Blaise jerked on his arm. "Stop it!" he hissed. "I keep telling you; this isn't your fault! _I'm _the one that slipped him the po…tion," he trailed off, feeling the furious, stunned gazes on him.

"YOU LITTLE WRETCH!" Severus yelped. He lunged forward, snatching a handful of Zabini's robe and yanking him forward. Several people grabbed hold of the boy, but Snape still managed to get a hand round his throat. "I'll _throttle _you," he continued, incensed. "And after I saved you from that fairy that went down your pants!"

"That—was—before—!" Zabini corrected.

"Blimey! Yeah! Give him a good hiding! I won't even mind it the next time you try chatting Harry up, so long as you—"

"_Ronald_," Hermione gasped, giving him a disgusted look. "You should be helping to break it up, instead of—"

"Filthy traitor," Snape continued, shaking the boy.

"I—_had—_to," Blaise wheezed. "Dumbledore—said—I couldn't—_not—_do it!" Snape paused. "They were _watching_," the boy wailed. "And it all happened so fast!"

"_You _slipped Snape that potion?" Harry demanded. "And then you _slept _with him, knowing he couldn't _help _himself? That's low even for _you, _Blaise!"

"I did no such thing! He lied so you'd go away and stop trying to ferret information out of him! It's _your _fault!" Zabini bellowed.

"That's all very convenient, now the Headmaster's disappeared, isn't it?" Snape asked menacingly.

Blaise's eyes widened in horror. "He didn't! He never!"

Everyone was gasping and talking. "Dumbledore?"

"They couldn't have—"

"He'd never—"

"That's ENOUGH," Minerva McGonagall interrupted briskly. "Severus, I think it would be best if you said nothing further until you've taken Miss Granger's potion."

Snape subsided, still shaking a little, his face red, his hair in a disarray. "Very well, Minerva," he acquiesced. "But once I've done, I'm still going to kill Zabini."

"If he's the one responsible for Albus' disappearance, I'll help you," she promised, a steely look in her eye.

Blaise swallowed apprehensively.

**Thanks to:  
**Sbyamibakura: Well, here's a _taste _of Snarry. A mouthful, at least. And there'll be more soon.  
gothic-hands: Thank you very much!  
potter-DorK: Me, too, so let me know if you see any! ; ) Thanks!  
Aki: Well, I promise to turn _this _heartache into something lovely—eventually, at any rate!  
BabeGia103: Yes, for smart folks like us, there _is _no challenge. I _did _have quite a bit of fun writing the next couple of chapters—which should mean they're really good, I hope!  
Qfan: Hey, I can fix it _fast _or I can fix it _well. _I sound like my grandpa! ; ) But it _is _getting fixed!  
Chantelli: Eek! Where's the link? It didn't work, and you have me very curious! A bit of Snarry hotness in this one, and more soon!  
Flaming: I'm so flattered! How about some TMP/TOS shirts? I've always wanted one that said something like, "How about a little snake ball?"  
sobs-for-snuffles: There! You're told! Sheesh! ; ) And I need you, too!  
The Greymalkin: No! I'll take my time! So there! ; p But seriously. This is true. Issues kinda make the story. Plus, they are two very similar-yet-dissimilar people, with _strong _personalities, and it'd be crazy to think it'd be all kittens and whisky if they got together!  
Jenonymous: Trust me, I'm stringing you along for as long as I can! It entertains me and gladdens my black little heart. Absolut Snape sounds hysterical! Do you write here? I shall have to check you out! Prepare to be checked out! Er, soon as I'm done with ch. 18. I'm on a roll!  
Tris the weatherwitch: Yes, yes; I kept it short because the plot needed to be done, and I didn't want to bore you _too _much. The stage is set—ish. I'm sorry if Harry came off as whiny. I wanted to show that he wouldn't automatically back down to Lupin, while still being open-minded enough to give Snape's feelings some thought. It's all been rather a trial, though. I'm sure he'll be glad when things are back to normal. (evil grin)  
Hoshiko-Malfoy: (laughs) I've never actually watched a Mexican soap opera, due to the complete lack of Spanish ability. But I think the drama and comedy is much better, from what little I've seen! And yeah…I haven't watched 'my' soaps since I was 18, but I'll bet they're pretty much doing the same things! I think it's much more flattering to be compared to a Mexican soap opera, personally.  
Chrliii: Now you've made me wish to write in rhyme, which is something I don't do all the time. The dawn is breakin', Snape's on the mend…and he'll soon drive Harry 'round the bend. Less poetic and more cheesy this time, I think!  
Aribella: But I'm a _good _evil. You'd still be proud to have me as president, right? Because I'd laugh coolly at other countries and use 'mitigate' and 'deliberation' in speech, and actually pronounce them correctly. And I'd convert the world to Slasholicism. Like Catholicism, but better. ; )  
Sweet Mercy: That's the sort of thing you get for reviewing so quickly! And, well, I don't think it's quite what you were hoping for, but Snape _did _do that!  
Lutheyl: I'm sorry if you felt they were out of character, but I don't think Colin is particularly cowardly in the books. He usually seems a little oblivious, which makes me think he doesn't give a lot of thought toward possible consequences—a true Gryffindor. And I'm not being HPB-compliant, so I can't have Harry doing nonverbal spells. He could have thrown his books to the floor and reached for his wand, but as Blaise hadn't really done anything too threatening yet, I preferred to have him reserve judgment—and stay on edge, just in case.  
And the Glowing GryffRavHuffSlythendor: Mystery partly solved! And Snape really couldn't help himself; he was blurting an awful lot out, and just couldn't control it. I like to think he was trying to stake just a _bit _of a claim on Harry by admitting how he felt, though…not nearly as much as the claim he'll _soon _be staking…


	17. Severus Snape, Back and Better Than Ever

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Seventeen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000 (who helped enormously with the scientific bits), and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Hermione gives Snape her potion, hoping to cure him. Snape reveals to Harry the contents of the letter he received. Harry tries to keep Snape at arm's length, so Snape sets out to win Harry back—_his_ way.

**Chapter Seventeen: Severus Snape, Back and Better than Ever**

Everyone seemed to lean forward in anticipation as Severus lifted the vial to his lips, then paused, dabbed a finger in it to check the temperature, and then demanded to know what had gone into it.

"For _fuck's sake, _just drink it already!" Ron raged. "You can't seriously think Hermione would _poison_ you!"

"Calm down," Hermione soothed. "He has every right to ask—it's his body, after all!" She beamed, clearly pleased to have all the attention on her, and everyone on tenterhooks for her insight. "I thought there was a problem with destruction, perhaps on the cellular level, but it didn't correlate the way we thought it did; while you lost control, breaking down on an emotional and behavioural level, your brain was actually amassing the potion. It built up and—well, I'm not positive _exactly_ what it's doing, but I have a few ideas. For one thing, it seems likely that it's causing a build up of proteins, preventing normal neuron function. Plus, it's causing your pituitary gland to overproduce, flooding your system with endorphins, which make you feel as though you can do no wrong, and likely affecting the productions of the other pituitary hormones as well, though I don't _think _your prolactin function was affected, because otherwise you wouldn't have attempted to er, get into Harry's pants, although I can't be sure, as I haven't had a chance to look at your brain—"

"Hermione? Could you try that again in English?" Harry said in a pained voice.

"She's saying that it's primarily hormonal, you nincompoop," Snape responded. "And she can't possibly be right. Because it would have affected me in other ways aside from my behaviour," he added after thinking it over.

"But it _did,_" Hermione insisted. "You've been dizzy, haven't you? Harry saw you pass out, and Madam Pomfrey said your lack of balance was behind her decision to keep you in bed. I don't think you've been getting enough oxygen, either. The potion is still stored somewhere in your brain, swamping your glands and nerves, making proteins accumulate and aggregate, preventing your synapses from functioning correctly. We have to force it to dissipate—to—to cause it to break down and hopefully be reabsorbed or—here, read this," she finally said, shoving a book at Harry.

Harry adjusted his glasses, squinting down at the passage. "Um. …a hemo-encephalic barrier exists to protect cerebral tissues from most of the drugs going though the body tissues, the barrier can be breached by concussions, intoxication, potions or curses…which result from the sudden flushing of the brain with certain hormones… Suppose that dopamine, which is a neurotransmitter, generally clutters the passages: the results would be a universal set of schizophrenic behaviours. Remove a large proportion of them and we revert to…"(note) Harry read aloud. "Hermione! I only understand about one word in ten, here!"

"Give me that," Snape said, snatching the book out of his hands. "Yes…I see. A build up of protein plaques might cause poor coordination, loss of motor control, and eventually affect my heart rate and breathing, while the hormonal deluge would lead to a loss of inhibition. Where did you get this?"

"That's the book someone stole from my chambers," Remus interjected, consternated.

Hermione looked up in surprise. "Well, _I _didn't take it," she said. "Harry did mentioned that you'd confiscated a book from him, but this was still in his pile of books from the library the other day, so I assumed he'd been talking about a different one."

"Never mind that now," Severus cut through the confusion. "It has here the instructions for an Eliminative Elixir, but it's a terribly advanced potion; no seventh year student could—"

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Ah. No seventh year student outside of the brilliant, gracious, and bloody annoyingly all-knowing Granger could concoct it. I concede, and I'll take the potion," Severus corrected himself. He swallowed the lot in one gulp, and looked round at everyone.

"Do you feel any different?" Colin squeaked in trepidation.

"I feel more displeased than ever that _you're _here ogling me," the man offered, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, it has become something of a carnival," Professor McGonagall intervened. "And according to the text, it may take some time for the potion to work, so I think everyone had best let Severus get his rest. It does you credit that you're all so concerned about your Potions Master, but he's in capable hands, and—"

"But I was the one who did all the research," Hermione protested.

"That's all right; I need to talk to you in any case," Remus told the girl, leading her away. Ron followed, looking curious.

"And Mister Zabini, I'd like to speak with _you _in private," Minerva said, as Hagrid shooed an arguing Colin and Ginny out of the room.

In a matter of moments, Harry found himself alone with Snape. He had to hide a grin, wondering if he could get the man to say something dirty now that no one else was around to bother them. Raking his hand through his hair, Harry turned to the man—only to find him flat on the bed, snoring gently.

_Oh, damn,_ Harry thought. He'd missed yet another opportunity to get some quality git time. Well, perhaps it was for the best.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape awoke to the revolting scent of something sweet. "What _is _that stench?" he asked.

"They're _roses,_" Harry's voice answered. "And they don't stink! Plus, they add a bit of colour to the room."

Snape glared over at the boy, who was arranging them in a cut-crystal vase on the windowsill. They were pink.

Harry blushed. "They were the only ones Sprout had that weren't dangerous," he explained. "And I thought they might cheer you up."

The man heaved a weary sigh. "Fine. You've filled your quota of do-gooding for the day. Now snuggle off and bother someone else. Perhaps you could go put spells on puppies and make them sparkly or something."

Snape could see those pretty lips twist in an effort not to smile. "Not until I know you're back to normal. Or back to less completely unbearable, at any rate."

Severus looked away. "Was it really so bad?" he asked quietly.

Harry turned his back, busying himself with the flowers. "No…not as such. Not until you tried to strip me in public, anyway. I might be more or less used to everyone looking at me by now, but that's a level of exhibitionism that I'm really not comfortable with."

The man gave a snort. "Flowers, I ask. You really don't know me at all, do you?"

Harry gave him a look. "I also brought you a bottle of scotch, but Pomfrey confiscated it."

The Potions Master actually managed a thin smile. "I suppose you do know a thing or two about me after all."

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully, and took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. "They tried to toss me out on my arse, but I wasn't having any of it; not until you and I had a chance to talk."

"More ominous words I've never heard, outside of Voldemort's 'I have a plan,' the Weasley twins' 'What happens if…' and the Headmaster's 'I need a favour.' But do go on."

Harry grinned, but it seemed a little strained. "Has Dumbledore really disappeared?"

Snape looked down at his hands. "I received an owl from Moody yesterday indicating that the Headmaster never arrived at their arranged meeting place after his oh-so-secret mission. Moody is convinced the man was taken by the Dark Lord. I don't know the veracity of the statement, at the moment."

"Are you telling me this because your pituitary gland is out of control?"

An elegant hand reached out to flick the boy's ear. "I'm telling you this because you make an even _larger _pig's ear out of things when I leave you uninformed. And because I seem to have the choice of what I tell you, I'm choosing to tell you the truth."

"And is the truth that you slept with Blaise? Ever?"

"…No. I did not. But…you're very persistent, and I was frightened of what you might drag out of me if you kept prying, which you would undoubtedly have done."

"Like what? What could you tell me that was so horrible? More horrible than you buggering Blaise Zabini?"

Snape took a very deep breath. "Well. Many things which I still cannot divulge. And—I had sexual relations with Lucius Malfoy at one point in time, for instance. It's not something I'm proud of," he added in a rush, "but he was a few years older than myself and everyone was very impressed with him, and he accepted me for who I was, or seemed to, at any rate. And he was very rich and well-connected, so…I was enamoured of him."

To Severus' mild shock, Harry appeared to think this over, instead of flaring up. "Well," he said grudgingly, "I suppose I can't really blame you. He's awfully handsome, even if he _is _an evil berk. But really, you should have known there was no depth to him—he's all show."

Snape flicked a glance at him. "There's an unfortunate depth to him, actually; the kind that lurks in shadows and drags you under. But that's neither here nor there. I am glad that you don't appear too upset," he said tentatively.

"It'd have been far better if you told me the truth in the first place," Harry chided.

Severus was thinking of all the _other _things Lucius was at the moment, and all of the things he still couldn't tell Harry, and chose not to answer directly. He certainly wouldn't remind the boy that there were Order secrets that still needed keeping. "I'm pleased that things seem to be getting back to normal," he said. "I look forward to…resuming our relationship, if you'll still have me?" He arched a brow inquiringly.

Harry looked down for a long moment, his face uncharacteristically pensive. "I do still have feelings for you," he said. "But I don't enjoy being toyed with, or lied to, or having the difficult decisions taken out of my hands, even if you think it's in my best interests to do so." He stood and strolled to the door. "In other words, Severus, I might be willing to take you back—but you're going to have to earn it."

Severus watched the boy go, a thin smile on his face. So Harry Potter wanted to be won and wooed, did he? Severus Snape could do that. In fact, he looked forward to the challenge.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaise stared at the wall, unseeing, his face pale. With Dumbledore gone and Snape angry with him, he had absolutely no one on his side. It was the story of his life, really—just on a rather more epic scale. McGonagall had informed him that he wouldn't be going home for the holidays, and that he wasn't to be left alone for any reason.

He'd half-expected to be sent straight to Azkaban, just on the off-chance that he'd somehow managed to vanish the Headmaster when no one was about.

This was ridiculous! He was just seventeen! What did he know about taking on someone as experienced and powerful as Dumbledore? He just did what he was told! Malfoy came and explained what to do, and said the Headmaster had declared there was not enough time to do anything else, and Blaise had shrugged and _done _it. He hadn't wanted to. He'd assumed the adults had everything under control.

Right. Like _always_, he bitterly realized. This was one more example of how everyone who took charge was completely incompetent and unqualified to do things like taking charge. He should have known better than to get involved. He should have kept his head down.

What if Dumbledore and Potter lost? What if Voldemort won? He'd be killed as a traitor, he supposed, although he wasn't certain the Dark Lord would find out his allegiances, so it was _possible _he'd be all right. It was the Mudbloods and the Muggle-borns who'd be killed.

"Blaise? Are you okay?"

He looked up through a thick window of unshed tears, blinking until they fell, surprising him. He hadn't even realized he'd been about to cry. He didn't _feel _anything. Maybe he really was as awful as everyone said—he could sit here crying his eyes out, not feeling anything at all.

"Oh!" Colin wrapped his arms around Blaise's head, pulling him close to his slim chest. "Don't cry," Colin whispered. "Everything will be all right. I promise."

"They think I'm a traitor," he choked out. "They're going to kill me. Someone stole a stupid book, and everyone saw me with it—despite the fact that they saw me _give _it to _Granger—_and now they all think I've done in Dumbledore. They think I betrayed the Headmaster and Harry and everyone, and they all hate me—they all—"

"Shh. No one hates you. They just don't understand you very well."

Blaise gave a bitter laugh. "And they sent _you _to guard me? Don't they realize I've taught you everything you know?"

"What they realize is that I'm your friend, really and truly," Colin responded patiently, stroking the Slytherin's dark curls. "I'm sorry you're having to go through this," he added.

This made Zabini's chin tremble, but he refused to continue crying. He was a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. Slytherins didn't cry. They made _other _people cry. That was the whole point of being a Slytherin. Still, it was rather nice to have a…friend. "Thank you," he said, the words muffled against Colin's shirt.

Colin kissed him lightly on the top of the head, bringing a rare genuine blush to Blaise's cheeks. "Maybe I'm not as good at certain things as some people are, so I'm not always the best person to have on your side," he admitted. "But I'll always stand up for a friend, and I'll always be there when you need me."

Blaise pulled away long enough to give Colin a frail smile. "You really are thick sometimes," he whispered. "Don't you realize how amazing you are? You're always selling yourself short, just because Potter is too stupid to see how—how clever and kind and constant you are. Snape's always saying that all Gryffindors have brains half the size of Snitches, and I'm beginning to think he's right."

Colin smiled, sitting down beside the Slytherin and taking his hand. "Look, I _know _you're not the traitor. We'll find a way to prove it. I don't know how, but we will."

Blaise gave the boy an appraising look. "There's really only way to prove that I'm not a backstabbing double agent."

Colin frowned. "How's that?"

"Find the one who is."

OoOoOoOoO

Severus breezed into Madam Malkin's, brushing a leaf from his shoulder. Madam Malkin was busy with another customer, but her assistant bowed his head fractionally toward Snape.

"Ah, Professor. What can we do for you this fine fall afternoon?"

"Take over the world, build me a mighty empire, and then huddle in trembling masses at my feet," Snape intoned.

The young man looked unsettled, his gaze straying to Snape's left arm. Some spots never got rubbed off, apparently, by dint of soap or sacrifice.

Severus sighed just a little. "I'm in need of a few outfits," he said. "It's been a good while since I've had anything new, and I'd like to find something…different."

The man cocked his head. "I see. What sort of 'difference' did you have in mind?"

Snape felt a bit at sea. Harry took the occasional interest in fashion, but the subject held no fascination for the Potions Master. He'd never have admitted in a million years that most of his clothing was specially tailored to billow, nor that stark black and buttons vaguely reminiscent of those found on military uniforms had been painstakingly chosen to evoke that authoritarian, 'I'll make you widdle yourself if you hack me off' look.

"Er…I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. Thus far, he'd dressed primarily to awe, not to enchant. He really didn't even know where to start. He could, upon thinking back, recall Lucius once going on about how his robes were chosen to bring out the lustre of his eyes, but that didn't really offer much guidance. "What would you say were my greatest…ah, 'assets?'" he inquired. "In the arena of charm or attraction, I mean."

The assistant looked over to Madam Malkin, and they responded, "Your voice," in unison.

Snape sighed, thinking that this was not a great help, and inclined his head. "Very well. Get me an outfit that accentuates my voice," he said dryly.

As he left the shop an hour later, a large package tucked under his arm, he passed the Weasley twins lolling outside their store, and shocked them both by giving them a smirk and a congenial wink.

"Oh, my God, Fred—Snape is _flirting _with you!" George howled.

George elbowed his brother hard. "Shove it! He was looking at _you!_"

"Nuh-uh—besides, you were the one who said he'd be sex on a stick if he'd just wash his hair!"

"You were the one who went through his underwear drawer!"

"Only to put Venezuelan Vampire bats in it!"

"I always wondered who got past my wards," Snape muttered, still walking away.

"Admit it—you _fancied _him!"

"Your _mother_!"

Sighing, Snape heard the sounds of two boys trying to hex each other silly somewhere behind him. On one hand, it was very nice to be out of the dungeons, seeing the leaves changing colour, feeling the brisk fall air…on the other, cretins like these reminded Snape why he loved his dungeons so very much. He was eager to get back to them, and maybe try on his new clothes.

OoOoOoOoO

"Harry, I'm awfully sorry to say this, but I don't think my potion was entirely a success."

Harry looked up from his massive tome, _So You Want to Defeat a Dark Lord, _to frown at Hermione suspiciously. "What? Why?"

"These," she replied, dropping a bunch of flowers before him. "They were from Snape. With a note. It says, _"With my deepest gratitude, etc., etc. Prof. Snape." _Isn't that disturbing?"

Harry spared them a grin. _Re-gifting git, _he thought. "I taught him that, I think," he said. "Last time we fought, he brought me flowers to make it up. I guess he figured that if it worked once…"

"But we didn't exactly have a fight," she pointed out.

"No, but he was rather rude, and how else is he supposed to thank you? It'd probably kill him to give Gryffindor points over it."

"Well, I suppose. Especially after Professor McGonagall gave me a hundred for saving the life of a teacher."

"Yeah," Harry said, his grin fading. "She's really worried about Dumbledore, isn't she?"

"We all are."

"I'm going to do something about it."

"Harry…fools rush in, you know. Be careful."

"I'm trying. But every time I turn around, Voldemort's killed someone else I care about. It's got to stop."

Hermione looked rather sad. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll keep digging."

Harry went back to his book, his face set with grim determination. "So will I."

(note) This passage taken almost in its entirety from "HOMO SCHIZO II: Human Nature and Behavior," by Alfred de Grazia, which is an excellent and very informing read.

**Thanks to:  
**Sobs-for-snuffles: Hee! Well, he doesn't exactly stay the _same, _but I think he's improved…  
Qfan: Aren't we a wiseass? ; ) You're like my uncle, who once answered, when I told him "You can't have everything; where would you put it?" immediately replied, "Everywhere." Anyhow...It's getting there, I swear!  
Riley Cat: Thanks! But Lupin's got the right idea about _something_…  
chrissy9115: Thank you! I'm hard at work on the next chapter!  
Angelic Minds: I'm so glad you like it!  
Sbyamibakura: Aw, Snapie plushies? For me? Thank you!  
Chrliii: Well, Snape _has _said it before, and Harry's still feeling a bit sulky. I'm sure he'll come round, though. Who can resist the Snape?  
Purplepaper: Thanks! They'll end up together eventually, I'm sure. Snarry will conquer all!  
Hoshiko-Malfoy: Oh, good! I am trying to get it going, but I'm also hosting a fic exchange (naughtynewyear on live journal) and writing drabbles for everyone involved, so I'm about ready to pass out.  
potter-DorK: (beams) Thank you! I was worried because it was a bit of a take-off of Veritas Vos Libarabit, but I just enjoy it so much…And hey, when you're new, you're fairly open minded and might squirrel out stuff us jaded folks wouldn't notice.  
Chantelli: (giggles) Oh, how I love that Seuss. And Richard Scarry; did you ever read his stuff? He was brilliant! Oh, and how I ADORE pen and umbra, except for the fact that I'm terminally envious. Really, I honestly CAN'T read her stuff, because it makes me weep with jealousy.  
BabeGia103: Thanks!  
Tris the weatherwitch: Hee! Thank you! I figure most of you want to beat Blaise to a pulp. I feel kinda bad for him. Ohh, bacteria. Eat lots of yogurt! Um, or stay away from it, if you're having the opposite problem.  
Aribella: To be fair, there are a lot of things better than Catholisism. Um. But I really considered having Snape go as a priest for Halloween, and Harry as an alter boy, which puts a whole new spin on an old religion. Wee!  
Sweet Mercy: Glad you weren't too disappointed!  
Kelei: They are like two ships…er…colliding in the night…slowly…  
Jenonymous: One of my favorite reviewers! Oh, you're noticing things, you noticing noticer, you! I don't think I've ever met anyone _quite _like Blaise, but there are one or two that were hot enough to get away with murder. Sexy brats that they were. Hee! I'm really surprised by how popular the line about buggering James' son was. Don't worry; more unmitigated filth to come! Ah, such a pun-maker I am.  
And the Generous GryffRavHuffSlythendor: How _do _you review so quickly? I'm very impressed. I promise to get to poor old Albus sooner or later!


	18. Back to the Blackboard

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Eighteen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Severus moves forward in his plans to win Harry back, and Harry's forming plans of his own…

**Chapter Eighteen: Back to the Blackboard**

As Harry made his way to Potions on Monday, he noticed Blaise and Colin were just ahead of him. They were holding hands. For some reason, this made his heart lurch just a little, in a not very pleasant way.

It just wasn't fair. Even if he worked everything out with Snape, and even if Snape suddenly relented and became the perfect lover, they'd never be allowed to walk around Hogwarts holding hands. _Well, maybe if we were both teachers or something, _he allowed, _although I still think McGonagall would give us sour looks. _Still, he _could _become a professor if he wanted to, and that thought made him a bit happier.

Blaise kissed Colin goodbye. Colin _let _him.

Harry tried not to get angry, and didn't even grab Colin's arm as he walked away, didn't warn him that Blaise was probably playing for the other team in a completely different sense these days, didn't…demand the boy remember how great Harry was. Wasn't this what Harry kind of wanted all along? Hadn't he been embarrassed by the way Colin had trailed after him, singing his praises?

As he sank into his seat, he tried to keep that in mind. He pointedly kept his face turned away from Blaise, who was wearing the most disgusting happy little smile.

Colin hadn't even said hi.

That rather hurt. Strange, how losing something he didn't even want still managed to make him feel rather wistful.

"Mister Potter, _I _am at the front of the class. Your attention should be on me, not on the happy little voices inside your head which are no doubt currently urging you into some further mischievous, nay, _criminal_ enterprise."

"Huh?"

"_Eyes _on _me. Ears _tuned to _me. _Concentration, in fact, on _me. _Understood?"

A grin crept over Harry's face. "Yeah, I get it. Me, me, me. And you're always saying that _I'm _self-absorbed."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, home of the back-talking cheeky monkeys," Snape replied after a few moments of chewing his bottom lip in irritation.

"I'll have to let my 'voices' goad me into saving the world again so I can earn them back," Harry replied.

"Detention, Mister Potter."

Harry faked a sigh of suffering. "If you insist." Funny how turned around his life was, that he'd get so much satisfaction out of earning a detention. It had quite improved his morning.

OoOoOoOoO

The Order was supposed to be having a meeting, but things were more than a little unsettled. On arrival, Molly Weasley, Arthur in tow, went straight for Severus, mad as a wet cat. She was somehow under the impression he'd tried to molest two of her boys.

"Madam, I assure you, nothing on this earth would induce me to engage in sexual relations with either of your reprehensible, freckle-covered felons. It'd be less hazardous to bed a manticore, for one thing."

"My boys are both perfectly desirable young men!"

"They are not desired, my dear Mrs. Weasley, by _me._"

"That's enough," Minerva interrupted. "We have larger problems at hand." Her lips were tight as she looked at each of them. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school and leader of the forces opposing Voldemort is _missing. _This is very serious indeed."

"How, exactly, do we want to handle this?" Kingsley asked, his face tense. "I don't think anyone else could possibly take charge of the Order. Even if we're making a decision regarding whether or not to attempt to rescue Dumbledore, I think it has to be…a majority decision," he said carefully.

Snape hid his surprise. McGonagall was Dumbledore's deputy in all things—and the Headmaster had fully expected her to do her best in his absence. That Shacklebolt would state—even obliquely— that he wouldn't recognize her seniority was both unexpected and alarming. Severus said nothing, preferring to watch the others and gauge their reactions.

"Well, it's true that we ought to discuss things," Arthur put forth rather carefully, "but we also must recognize that Minerva has the most difficult job ahead of her, and supporting her decisions just now is of utmost importance."

"I disagree," Kingsley said evenly. Minerva's back was very straight. "There are things even she was not made privy to, and I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons for that. I think the most important thing is agreeing to hold our positions, at least in respect to what information is disseminated. We must be cautious."

There was a moment of silence as the rest of the room contemplated this wisdom.

"LOAD OF ROT!" Hagrid suddenly roared. Even Severus jumped a bit, his hair falling into his face. "Dumbledore's a great man, and he put Professor McGonagall up as his second-in-command fer a reason! If he trusts 'er, why shouldn' we? What yer sayin' is that yeh think one o' us could be a traitor. I say rubbish. I trust everyone in 'ere." Hagrid sat back in his chair, his eyes beady with ire as he glared at Kingsley.

"Actually, what Kingsley says makes a good deal of sense," Remus said apologetically. "It would probably be best if we worked with a great deal of discretion right now. After all, Dumbledore left no orders that Minerva needed to know everything. Perhaps he had his reasons."

"Dumbledore always had his reasons," Severus muttered. He was unsure if anyone heard him, because Arthur jumped in again right away.

"But I'm _sure _he trusted Professor McGonagall!" he exclaimed in a scandalized voice. "And I'm certain _one _of us ought to know everything that's going on. What if events were to…coalesce, or something of that nature? We need someone to know every facet in order to be able to plan effectively!"

"You _would _say that," Sturgis Podmore grumbled.

Molly bristled on Arthur's behalf. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

"I mean that, as far as making his own decisions goes, Arthur is unlikely to have any real _experience_," the man replied in a fractious voice.

A complete uproar ensued. Molly insisted tearfully that Arthur was as strong a decision-maker as any man, while Tonks defended them both, and called Sturgis a number of nasty but youthfully slangy—and therefore difficult to understand—names. "Enough of that!" Moody finally shouted, banging his wooden foot on the floor. "This won't solve anything, and it's this sort of behaviour that'll get us all killed! We can't be squabbling amongst ourselves; the enemy will be swift to take advantage!" he warned.

"I don't think Arthur is…'whipped,' as Tonks so colourfully described it," Kingsley announced. "I just don't feel comfortable putting Minerva at risk. And she _would be _at risk!"

"Perhaps it would be best if there were certain aspects of Albus' schemes on which I was left uninformed," McGonagall announced, her face pensive and troubled.

Snape looked her in the eye. "But how do you know whether you're being left out of something important if you lack the knowledge to make the decision?" he asked. _Damned if you do, damned if you don't, _he thought.

Everyone fell silent again.

"I shall…think on it," Minerva finally concluded.

Snape hoped she came to a different conclusion than he had.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry folded his arms behind his head, thinking. If only he had that potion right now. He was sure it was the answer to his problems. A potion that would allow him to follow Dumbledore, to trace him—but they were running out of time…

Sighing, he rubbed his face. Lupin said no way, and appropriated _Twentye Rare Potions, _so now Harry would never know if it worked. It had sounded so useful, too. He wondered if he should ask Snape about it—but no. Snape was totally against Harry doing _anything _that might end up hurting Harry. He sure wouldn't go for this sort of risk.

Harry wondered where Snape was, and what he was doing. He'd said he wanted Harry back. Remembering made his insides feel warm and tingly. And the way he _kissed. _God, the man had a talented tongue! It had been simultaneously titillating and terrifying. And it was going straight into Harry's memory wank-bank. At the same time…he was awfully sick of the lies. It was really hard being involved with someone so much older. Snape always had the upper hand, he always had control, and he always made the decisions. Harry was not crazy about letting someone else do all of those things. It was incredibly frustrating.

Even so…could Harry ever really picture himself with someone else? Sure, he'd had fun with Blaise last year, but that was just fooling around—and trying to make Snape jealous, he had to admit. He would never have seriously _done _anything with Blaise. He had made out with Draco Malfoy once, before Draco had been killed by Voldemort, and he often gave Colin a peck on the cheek, or let Hermione or Ginny hug him. But…none of it felt the same.

It felt weird when someone other than Severus held him. It felt…not right. He could, he supposed, go straight to Colin's dorm right now, and manipulate the boy into trying some really wild and kinky things. On some level, it would even be fun. Colin was cute, and the idea of sex without strings was appealing.

…But there was no such thing.

Sex meant giving something to someone. Sex meant really trusting someone. Sex meant being _really, really _intimate—if only physically—with someone else, and Harry couldn't imagine wanting that with anyone but Severus.

And he seriously hoped Severus felt the same way. It had really stung when he'd thought he caught Snape in a compromising position with Blaise. And even after he'd had a chance to think it over, and realize what the man was probably doing, there was an achy, mistrustful place inside, like his heart had been bruised.

Even if they weren't _technically _together, Harry couldn't imagine knowingly hurting Snape the same way. Not even in the name of revenge. A kiss on Colin's cheek was one thing, but being a part of another person—letting someone else in your _body—_that was something different. That was something…kind of precious, Harry reckoned. He wanted that with Snape.

And not with anyone else.

Snape had been with other people, it was true. It didn't feel real great to know he'd been with Lucius Malfoy, for one thing. But that was before Harry had arrived on the scene, right? Snape didn't know one day he'd meet a green-eyed stallion who would be his soul mate. So Harry had to deal with it. He didn't have to like it.

He was going to have to tread very carefully, here. He wanted Snape back, but the man was going to have to make a few changes. He had to see things Harry's way. Harry was a Gryffindor—he couldn't spend the rest of his life being bossed about. It wasn't in his nature!

Yet Harry wasn't keen on the idea of giving Snape the cold shoulder until he gave up. He needed to be taught a lesson…but he still had to belong to Harry, in the end.

Because they belonged _together. _

Feeling a bit better about his decision, even if he was uncertain how to put it into effect, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.

OoOoOoOoO

"Creevey, keep your hands to yourself. Potter is your classmate, not your security blanket." Colin, who'd been standing on his broom, trying to get a sense of balance up through his legs, clutched Harry tighter, while Blaise scowled from the stands.

Harry looked over his shoulder, startled. "What are you doing here? I'm trying to give Colin some extra…er…attention. Um. For Quidditch."

"You have detention with me. You're supposed to be in the dungeon," Snape replied haughtily.

"When did you decide that?"

"Now. It's my prerogative to give detentions when and how I see fit."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let me help Colin down," he said.

"_I'll _help the hapless little sod. You get moving." As Snape lifted the boy down, he turned to find a bristling Blaise behind him. "What's a piece of meat like you doing in a nice place like this?" he sneered. He could hear Colin gulp, and the Zabini-flavoured tart went red.

"Hang on a second!" Harry snapped. "Let's not have a meltdown here. Snape, put Colin down. Keep your cool, would you? And Blaise, I know you're protective of Colin, but no one was hurting him."

"He's not a hapless sod," Blaise grunted, crossing his arms.

Colin crossed to him quickly, taking his elbow and steering him away. Harry couldn't help but notice that there was a new constellation in the boy's eyes. And despite the fact that he'd been rather pale not a minute earlier, Colin's cheeks were now flushed. _Heh. Love. _Harry couldn't help but smirk cynically.

Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him along. "You've a date with a chalkboard," he told Harry curtly. "I'm sure the two of you have missed each other; one hundred repetitions of my chosen line should get you reacquainted."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape couldn't help but wallow in the warmth of Potter's wide-eyed disbelief as he stared up at the blackboard in front of him. He watched the boy's perfect lips form _I Belong to Professor Severus Snape, and He Belongs to Me._

"I'm writing this a hundred times?" Harry asked with a slight rising of an eyebrow. "What if one of the other teachers sees?"

"No one can see it except _us_, Mister Potter. It's a rather clever little charm, and one unlikely to be recognized even by Professor Flitwick. Get to work."

"Why are you making me do this?" Harry asked as he lifted the chalk, twirling it between his fingers.

"To remind you of something that you might have forgotten," Snape replied quietly, watching the boy's profile.

"…er. What?"

"That I love you, dim-witted drip. I've done everything but shout it from the rooftops recently—and thank Merlin Granger came up with a cure before I managed _that._ I told you how I felt some time ago, and assumed that my time with you was limited. It both was and it wasn't. I made it through that last little ordeal more or less unscathed but…" He turned away, curtain of dark hair hiding his face. "I was fortunate. I _am _fortunate. Such fortune is rare—almost unknown—to me. I intend to savour it."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "Severus Snape has a new lease on life and decides to show Harry Potter he's Mr. Right, huh? You know, it's going to take more than a few well-placed detentions to get me back."

Snape smiled at him. "Oh, yes. You really wouldn't be worth it, otherwise."

Harry gulped a bit when the man ran a hungry gaze down his body. "Y-you know, we could be doing better with our time together," he suggested.

"Absolutely. But I fear Minerva might have a heart attack if she caught me forcing you to do a strip-tease for your detention, so sadly you'll just have to do your lines."

Harry smacked a hand on his forehead. "Are you sure that potion isn't still affecting you? I _meant _that we could figure out some way of helping the Headmaster!"

Snape frowned. "You ought to leave that to the adults. You must realize that if Dumbledore _has _been kidnapped, it was likely to lure you to Voldemort. It's almost undoubtedly a trap."

"Yeah, I know, but you're still not—damn it, Snape! Listen to me! Even if—or _especially _if you don't want me rushing to conclusions, you ought to be willing to talk things over with me, and treat me like an equal!"

Severus thought this over. "I suppose it's possible that in this one instance, you may be correct," he allowed. "But I want your solemn oath that you will not go rushing out to save the man."

"You have it."

"Good." Snape took a seat at in one of the student's chairs and gestured toward the blackboard.

Harry turned and began doing his lines, pausing occasionally to look over his shoulder. "So…are you just going to sit there all night?"

"I feel I'm showing great restraint, considering you're still dressed," Snape replied. In reality, he'd planned on stating his position and allowing Harry time to think it over, while he contemplated the Dumbledore Dilemma, as he'd taken to calling it. He couldn't do much in his current position, especially since he was known to the Death Eaters as a traitor.

Still, there had to be _something _useful he could do…was this how Harry felt? The frustration was maddening.

"Hey!"

Snape started. "What?"

Harry was looking at him indignantly. "If you're just going to sit there, quit staring at my arse!"

Severus blinked. He probably had been, if only idly. He smirked at Harry. "Cheeky brat."

Harry threw the chalk at him.

"That's it! Detention tomorrow as well, you impudent whelp!"

"Fine! Now stop checking out my arse!"

OoOoOoOoO

Harry yawned, reaching for his glasses. What was he going to do with so many nights of detention? Between Snape's demands for attention, Quidditch, and trying to figure out a way to help Dumbledore, Harry hardly had time to breathe. He'd had nightmares all night, and a lovely little nugget from Voldemort somewhere round two in the morning. At the time, it had been horrible, but now he couldn't even remember it.

He slid out of bed, feeling guilty for neglecting his Occlumency, even though he'd really thought he might be able to dream of the Headmaster. Since he'd been so exhausted from having to write an _extra _hundred lines—"I WILL STOP TALKING ABOUT MY ARSE"—he'd fallen back asleep before he could write down what happened in his Voldemort-induced dream.

Damn. He _had _to get that potions book back—but _how?_ Remus had confiscated it again, and had entrusted it to Snape, who for once was in complete agreement with the werewolf about precocious little buggers not getting their hands on it. Hermione had been disappointed, too, now that she knew how useful the book could be.

But…_Snape _had the book. Harry could visit the man anytime he liked, especially now that Snape was so intent on getting back on Harry's good side. _If _that were actually the case. Harry still wondered if the potion was completely out of Severus' brain—he was acting awfully strange. Still, it had to be worth a try.

It looked like Ron had already gone down to breakfast, so Harry hurriedly dressed and headed downstairs.

Hermione smiled broadly at him as he sat down. "What is it?" he asked, looking down to make sure his robes were right side out.

"Harry, I think Snape really _is _back to normal!" she gushed. "We accidentally bumped into him on our way down here!"

Harry felt a flutter of relief. "Really? What'd he do?"

Ron shrugged. "Oh, you know; gave us the look of death, cursed our progeny unto the tenth generation, turned into a bat and flew off. The usual."

Harry grinned. "Great!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "No offence, mate, but you're really nutters."

Hermione was still beaming. "He thinks we'll have _progeny_!" she exclaimed.

Ron looked pained. "Sometimes it's hard being the only normal one."

"Did he really say progeny?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "But he didn't turn into a bat."

"I think he probably knew that," Ron interjected. "Still, seeing how it's Harry, and Harry thinks the old bastard can do _anything, _it's probably better that you cleared that up."

Harry laughed, punching him in the arm. "Belt up, you!" Glancing up, he met Snape's eyes, and couldn't hold back a grin. The man gave him a dry smile and inclined his head slightly. He couldn't wait for detention to come. He was going to get that book—and he was going to enjoy doing it.

**A/N:**

Okay, I would really like to thank each of you individually as I usually do, but I seem to be suffering a horrible migraine. I've been having them lately, and it really hurts to look at the screen, so I'm a gonna post this and go close my eyes for a bit… Hopefully I'll be in better shape next post, yeah?


	19. Who Needs Plot When There Is Snogging?

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Nineteen  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Severus moves forward in his plans to win Harry back, and Harry's forming plans of his own…

**Who Needs Plot When There Is Snogging?**

"Hey! I brought someone to visit you!" Harry exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

"What the hell is that?" Snape asked, peering closely. "It _moved!_"

"It's _Junior,_" Harry replied. "Remember him? He's all dressed up, just for the occasion." He held up the box with the snake, as Junior tried desperately to wiggle free of the red and gold ribbons Harry had decorated him with.

"So it is. The poor little sod," Severus replied, shaking his head. "You are aware that however conservative the world becomes, we are unlikely to begin forcing animals to wear clothing," he pointed out.

Harry pouted. "I thought it was very festive," he said.

"It's very _abnormal_." Snape undid the ribbons, and Snape Junior seemed to sigh in relief.

"Give Daddy a kiss hello," Harry said cheerfully, lifting the little reptile to look Severus in the face.

"Stop being a twit and get to your lines," Snape told him severely.

"Um. Don't you think 'I'M ASKING FOR A SPANKING' is a bit tacky, not to mention overdoing it? This isn't about you… er, _seducing _me, you know," Harry informed him.

Snape looked surprised. "You're always on about sex," he argued.

"Yes, but that's not the _point. _The point is that you have to treat me like an equal, not shag me or talk about shagging me all the time. Besides, I wanted to do something constructive tonight."

Snape glared at him suspiciously. "Like what?"

"The Patronus Charm."

"Merlin, not _that _rot again. You know perfectly well I'm incapable of it, so why can't we move on?"

"You're _not_," Harry insisted. "And here, I'll help." He stepped up to the man, wrapping his arms around Snape's shoulders. "I love you," he murmured, kissing him softly on the lips.

Snape blinked. "Will you _put that ruddy snake down_?" he groused. "It's sticking its tongue in my ear!"

Harry rolled his eyes heavenward. "Sorry." He put Junior away. "Want to try again? A little snakeball is good for the heart."

"It sounds rather gymnastic for my tastes. At your age you're probably still flexible enough, but I've no desire to try to shape myself into a ball," Severus replied, but allowed Harry to kiss him.

"I missed you," Harry informed him quietly.

The corner of Severus' mouth twisted up just a little. "As I did you, I suppose. Bits of you, anyway."

Harry grinned widely, eyes shining. "_All _of me," he said stubbornly.

"Well…all of you, then," Snape allowed. "But bits of you more than others."

"So! Can we head to your chambers, then, and break out the old Boggart for some practice?"

Snape looked a bit shifty, but nodded. "As you wish."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry stopped dead, gaping. "Holy fuck," he muttered, eyes wide. "Did you—what the hell exactly were your plans for me this evening?"

"Did you really _want_ to do lines all night? I didn't expect you'd enjoy it, so I thought I'd let you work at it until you got a cramp or something, and then I'd suggest we retire to my rooms, and you'd be ever so grateful…"

"And then you'd offer me champagne?"

"Why the devil should I bother with champagne? You can't tell the difference between a decent vintage of wine and something brewed in a toilet."

"Hey! That's not true—something brewed in the loo is a _lot _worse, and often brown or green and thick as sludge. Trust me, I wouldn't drink it unless I had to," Harry informed the man, thinking back to the Polyjuice Potion.

"Yes, well."

Snape's study had been transformed from a dusty, book-filled little nook into a full-blown setting for sexual enticement. The dust was probably gone, but it was difficult to tell, because the place was lit only with a few scattered candles. Their chairs had been transformed, melded together and re-upholstered to create a long, low-slung seat in a colour that might have been purple. There were _roses _about. Not Harry's roses, these—instead of the happy little pink buds Harry had found, these roses were so deeply red that they were nearly black, their blooms blossomed so wide they seemed in danger of exploding.

It smelled of roses, but spicier, muskier. A fire roared in the fireplace, flicking orange and red reflections on the walls. Music was playing softly from somewhere, the bass so deep it thrummed through the floor, and Harry was almost certain he could pick out the jazzy strains of a saxophone.

"Have a seat," Severus suggested.

Harry turned to find the man leaning against the doorway, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he looked Harry over. Harry smiled weakly.

"It's—it's a bit much, what? I mean… you didn't have to do all this just for me. It's nice though."

"_Have _a _seat_," Severus repeated, and Harry did so, sinking into the plushness of the couch, holding Junior to his chest almost defensively.

"It's a bit overwhelming," he pointed out as Snape poured him a glass of something.

"Nonsense. Here, knock back a couple of these and you'll be right back to your loose, adventurous self. Besides, if you didn't want me to debauch you, you should have thought about that before you went kissing me in wardrobes."

Harry scowled. "That's very reassuring." He accepted his drink anyway, sipping at it nervously.

Severus sat beside him, staring. "My god, you really _are _nervous, aren't you?" he asked, smiling crookedly. "And I thought you were just trying to play innocent because you know I think it's cute."

Harry turned pink. "It is? I mean—no—look, I've just not…done a whole lot. Most of what I've done, I've done with you. And _you've_—you know—with other people before me, and I don't want you to think I'm crap at this." He plonked his glass down on the table, grimacing in embarrassment.

Severus arched a brow. "Between your various interactions with Zabini, Malfoy, Creevey and that Weasley wench, I'd have thought you'd have _some _idea of what it was all about."

"I did. I _do. _It just… never went past hands," he mumbled into his drink. "And—wait a second—_Ginny? _I never did anything with _her!_"

Snape shook his head. "Stop switching to subjects designed to turn me off," he said. "If you really are that nervous, we needn't do anything at all."

Harry gave a lopsided grin. "You know, I don't think the Headmaster would approve of this after hours activity."

Snape's eyes glittered. "The Headmaster is not here." He leaned toward Harry, lightly cupping the boy's chin. Harry's eyes slid shut and his lips parted as Severus kissed him softly, slowly. It wasn't like their prior kisses; it was languid, deliberate. Harry could feel Snape's thumb tracing circles on his shoulder, and the heat of the man's leg where it touched his own.

Harry broke away with a shuddering breath. "Oh, _wow_," he moaned longingly. "This is—you're—_wow._"

Severus gave him a smug, smouldering glance. "I know."

Harry wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but very shortly he found himself shoved down on the chaise lounge, his head thrown backward and hanging over the edge of the seat, while Severus lavished attention on his neck.

Why was he feeling like he wasn't the only one with an ulterior motive here?

"Mmmm," Snape hummed softly against his throat. "You taste very nice."

Harry shivered, one hand fisting in Snape's hair. "I—oh, I d-do? Like… like what?"

Severus lifted his head and stared at the boy. "You taste of Harry Potter," he replied. Severus slid one hand up Harry's thigh while leaning forward to kiss him again. Harry squirmed, a bit alarmed, but Snape's other hand was on his chest, pinning him down.

"God, Snape, when you set out to seduce someone, you don't mess about," Harry panted.

"Do you want this?" Severus asked quietly.

Harry choked as Snape's subtle fingertips found pleasure-points on hip and chest. "Yes. Oh, please yes. I want this."

"From me?"

Now Severus had rucked up Harry's shirt and was following the path his fingers had blazed with the flat of his tongue, and Harry gasped. "Yes! Only from you, I swear it; never anyone else. God. And you—and you—"

"I need no one else. Whatever I do, I do for you. I do it because you are that valuable to me. I do it because you are _mine_."

Harry's head thrashed as Severus's breath ghosted over his stomach, the solid weight of his body settled between Harry's knees. "Oh… _yours_," Harry agreed deliriously. "Forever and ever. And I do—I do everything for you, too. I'd do anything for you. You're everything; I swear it."

Severus dipped his tongue lightly into the shallow indentation of Harry's navel. "Anything? You'd do anything for me?"

"Severus! Yes, by Merlin, I swear it!" He really, _really _wanted to give Snape's head a good push in the right direction, but didn't think it respectful.

"Good boy," Severus whispered. "I don't want much." He glided up Harry's body to flick a tongue into Harry's ear. "Just want you to behave."

"I will," Harry swore, feeling goosebumps break out from the gymnastics Snape's tongue was currently performing. "I'll be a good boy. I'll be good for you. Please don't stop."

"And you won't follow me anywhere."

"And I won't—what? Wait, where are you going?"

Snape sighed. "You'll be a good boy, and you'll not _follow me anywhere._"

Harry stared at him. "I'm not going to promise that."

Severus scowled. "Then you're not getting laid."

"I don't care about that!" Harry retorted, despite the very obvious evidence that bits of him did very much. "What are you getting into?"

Severus rested his head on Harry's chest. "If I tell you, will you promise not to interfere?"

"How can you ask me to make that promise? If the situation were reversed, would you offer that promise to me?"

"You—I—Confound you, Potter! Don't be reasonable at me at a time like this! I want you to be safe! I want to be able to concentrate on the task at hand, without worrying where you are and what hare-brained scheme you're currently concocting! I want you curled up secure in my bed, keeping it warm and waiting for me when I return!"

Harry sniffed. "I'm not going to be the woman. And frankly, I think even if you'd said that to a woman, she'd be right furious about it." He held up a hand to forestall Severus' argument. "I'll agree not to follow you. I'll agree to do my best to stay out of danger. But I'm not going to sit about wringing my hands and looking soulful, all right?"

Severus smiled a little. "What a pity. You do it so well."

"Snape…" Harry's voice held a warning, but his hands were tickling lightly over the Potions Master's neck, and the tension in the encounter was all but gone.

"I'm going to meet some former associates."

Harry's hand stilled. "Death Eaters, you mean. You're going to meet Death Eaters. Are you out of your mind?"

"Listen to me; I was not the first nor the last to become disillusioned with the life I was expected to lead. I think I have a chance—a very _good _chance—of convincing one, if not more, over to our side."

"But Christ, what a _risk_," Harry complained. "Are you sure you're not a Gryffindor deep down? Because it seems like you have that same thirst for facing death that I do."

"_No_," Snape assured him. "And red and gold are gaudy. I will meet them in a somewhat public place, I will be well protected, and I have an opportunity to learn what they know of Dumbledore's disappearance. Harry, you must see that it is worth the danger. I'm well trained. I'm cautious. I know what I'm doing."

"You _always _say that!" Harry cried, exasperated.

"I love you."

"You bastard; it's damned devious of you to knock my legs out from under me by saying a thing like that."

Severus lifted Harry's hand to his lips, trailed a series of soft kisses over the chapped knuckles. "Promise me you'll be a good boy."

Harry heaved a great sigh. "I'm _always _a good boy. That's what gets me into these messes. If I were a bad boy, I'd probably be keeping my head down and worrying about myself. But I promise I won't follow you, and I won't try to stop you, and I won't try to stop the—the Death Eaters from meeting you. All right? But if any one of those snakes tries putting it to you, I'm going to make Voldemort seem like Captain Kangaroo."

Snape blinked slowly. "Speaking of snakes, didn't you have one of those when you came in?"

Harry tried not to look guilty. "I—what? Huh? Uh… he was here a moment ago."

Severus looked about, lifting cushions. "Blast you and your multi-species friends. He must have got off somewhere."

"At least one of us did," Harry quipped weakly.

"There he is, just under that cabinet. He'd better not have got into my extra jar of cockroaches, or you'll be paying for them!"

"I'm sure he didn't, sir," Harry replied, hurrying to pick up the laggard creature. Snape calmed, as Harry knew he had a tendency to do when Harry precluded an argument with politeness.

"Well…"

"Oh, gosh, look at the time!" Harry interrupted, gesturing wildly. "I ought to be in bed!"

"Yes. Mine."

Harry flushed. "Really? _Really_ really?"

Severus sighed. "I suppose not. Albus would be disappointed if I did such a thing. You _will _try to behave, for _my _sake?"

Harry gave a relieved, crooked grin, and leaned over to give the man a kiss. "Yes. For you, I'd do anything. I'd wrestle a bear. I'd climb the tallest mountain. I'd die, if you asked. And yes, as wretched as it is, I'll even be a 'good boy.' All right?"

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Your sodding snake has just tried to wiggle into my shirt. Go find somewhere else for him to be a nuisance. _And _yourself."

Harry saluted. "Yes, sir!"

"Ruddy little prat."

OoOoOoOoO

Outside the man's chambers, Harry wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his shirtsleeve. "It _took _you long enough!" he complained to his small green companion. "I thought I might just have to forgo the whole plan and see if I couldn't just find the thing myself after we shagged!"

Junior hissed at length.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. "All right, then, good job," he hissed back. "Tomorrow, it's time for step two. I hope he doesn't get _too _angry."

**A/N:**

**Just wanted to let you all know that, now that ff allows it, I'll be responding to most reviews individually, instead of taking up a whole extra page for it, so long as you all don't mind. Yay! Reviews! Also, I apologize for the hiatus, but if you check out the fic on the naughty(underscore)newyear LJ, you will see why, and trust me, it's been worth it!**


	20. The Answer Lies Within Snape's Room

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry is a sneaky little brat, but Snape's not letting him get away with anything if he can help it.

**The Answer Lies Within…Snape's Bedroom**

"Okay…okay…I can do this. Under his _pillow_?" Harry demanded of Junior, holding him up so they could meet each other's eyes. "Are you sure? It's not possible it was some _other _book? I mean, I'd hate to go to all the trouble of breaking in there and then finding he's been sleeping with that dratted romance novel he confiscated from me last summer."

Junior tilted his head.

"That one…uh, that one has a picture on the front of a man with long dark hair. And, um, it was kind of dog-eared. Paperback. Er—I mean, it was smaller and had a floppy cover."

The snake nodded. "That one was on his bedside table," he said triumphantly. "He had many books about the place that he sleeps. I looked at several closely to be certain."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Well, he couldn't make it easy, could he? I'm going to have to go in while he's teaching class. There's just no way I could get away with it if he were actually there. He reads my mind and figures out all the bad stuff I'm thinking."

Junior curled around Harry's wrist. "I would carry it for you, but it is much too large to fit in my mouth, _eeen wheh I oo iis wi y awh._"

Harry gave him a stern look. "_What_?"

The snake obediently re-hinged his jaws. "Even when I do 'this' with my mouth," he replied solemnly.

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the snake was having fun with him, but didn't bother voicing the thought. "All right. Anyway, I can do this. I just have to get it done fast, so he doesn't have time to go meeting those damned Death Eaters. What is he _thinking_? Look, I'm going to put you in my pocket, and you can be my lookout, and—wait, you really aren't loud enough to warn me if you see someone coming, are you?" Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I think I need to ask for some help."

OoOoOoOoO

"Professor! Harry's got a headache. I think it's You Know Who," Ron hissed, leaning over her desk. The rest of the class was absorbed in their studies, attempting to Transfigure newts into knickers.

"Mister Potter?" McGonagall queried, and Harry came up, pressing his hand to his scar.

"I don't feel well," he admitted. It was the perfect truth. The idea of trying to break into Snape's chambers was making him so nervous that he was developing a stomach ache.

"Very well," the professor replied, her lips thin, but her eyes concerned. "Go on down to the hospital wing."

"I'd better take him," Ron said quickly.

"It helps the pain if I keep my eyes closed," Harry chimed, demonstrating, as Ron took him by the arm.

Hermione looked suspicious as they passed. If only she weren't so clever!

"Oh, crikey, Harry, I don't like this," Ron moaned, looking up and down the deserted hallway. "This is dangerous, this is. I'd rather visit Hagrid's petting zoo than break into Snape's _bedroom_."

"Shut up, Ron. And _you_ won't be breaking into _anything. _You just stand here and yell if someone comes."

"Yell _what_, Harry? I mean, it'd look a bit funny, mate, if someone showed up and I just started shouting at someone who wasn't there."

"Do _you _want the cloak?" Harry asked, brandishing it. He'd planned on wearing it to help fool Snape's mirror and paintings, which would otherwise get a good look at him.

"Oh, yes, _good _idea, that. So there will be shouts from someone who isn't there, directed at someone who isn't present. Yes, Harry, that'll pull the wool over their eyes."

"Well, yell something like, 'Ow, my leg!' and then sink down on the floor. You can say you've got a cramp or something, and ask them to take you to the hospital wing, and that'll give me time to get away."

"Right. That's not bad. But, Harry…I really wish we'd done this earlier in the lesson."

"Ron, we _had _to wait until the class had really got started. I didn't want them all staring at me and thinking me pathetic for having to go the hospital wing yet _again._"

"Harry, I think the amount of negative attention would have been more than balanced out by the amount of _time _we'd have had to get the ruddy _book_!"

Harry blinked. "You sounded a bit like Hermione just now, what with the logic and everything. Don't do that again, okay? Gives me the creeps."

Ron laughed nervously as Harry pulled the cloak over his head. "Sure you'll be all right? I know Snape has traps and hexes in there waiting to go off on unwary intruders. He told us often enough last year."

"Yeah, yeah; I can get into the bedroom anyway."

"I didn't need to be reminded of that."

Harry just grinned, though Ron couldn't see it. "Later."

"Good luck, mate."

Dark at the best of times, Snape's rooms were now pitch black. Harry could still smell the intoxicating aroma of last night's scented sin, and he shuddered as he remembered Severus' lips trailing down his throat. That _had _been a fun night. He only wished he hadn't been so distracted, and could have sat back and really enjoyed himself.

"Ouch!" he grumbled. "Stupid table!" He'd bumped one of his shins against a hallway table, which had promptly bit him in return. He spent a few moments trying to shake it loose, knocking over the vase of poisonously green plants that sat atop it.

"Oi! Are you all right in there?" Ron's worried whisper asked. "Only you're making a racket."

"I'm _fine,_" Harry told him sullenly, setting the vase upright and trying to get the plants back in it. They didn't want to go, and grabbed the rim of the container as well as Harry's sleeves. "Damn it! _Impedimentia!_" With the plant's reflexes slowed, he was able to tuck them away. "Stupid things," he added.

He made his way to the bedroom, keeping to the right side of the hall. He made sure to be especially quiet round the sharp-eyed portrait of some eighteenth century sea captain that Snape had hanging outside the den. Harry carefully removed the hexes on the bedroom door, and slipped inside.

_Under the pillow. _Harry carefully made his way to the bed, his hand slipping under the covers and feeling beneath Severus' pillow. _Sev's head rests right here, _he thought. _His whole body spends every night touching these sheets. Lucky bastards. _His fingers brushed against something solid and leathery, and he drew out the book.

_Easy. _He looked around, bent his head to Snape's bed, and inhaled deeply. _I want to stay here, _he mused. _Curl up and wait for him, just like he wants me to do. I wonder what he'd think of that? _It wasn't as though Harry didn't have the option. As long as he gave up the book, surely Snape would be pleased to find the boy waiting in his bed, not going looking for trouble.

Harry sank down onto the mattress, fingers dancing over the blankets. It was tempting. If only he sat back and let Snape take charge, he could just stay here and become a part of Snape's accessories. He rather liked the idea of giving up Harry Potter, and _really _liked the thought of giving up all that entailed. If he just let Severus take control, he could vegetate here, keep the bed warm, give up all pretence of responsibility and respectability.

And then Snape could take all the risks. And die.

With a light sigh, Harry got to his feet again. As much as he hated the job, he was the hero. Heroes kept people safe, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry crept back out and cracked open the door. "All clear?" he whispered.

"Yeah, I—wait—oh, _shit_!" Ron exclaimed in a hushed voice.

Harry ducked back in, closing the door. A few moments later, Harry heard a muffled, unmistakeable, unexpected, sultry voice. "Weasley. What _are _you doing here?"

A long pause. Then—

"Oh! Oh, ow, my leg! I've got a really bad leg cramp, Professor! You'll have to carry me to the hospital wing!" Ron howled.

"Don't be _ridiculous_," Severus replied shortly. "I've a better cure than that: if you're not up off that floor and well away from my personal chambers in less than three seconds, I am going to curse you into a casserole."

"He's not going for it," Harry moaned softly at the crack of the door. "Try to get him to turn his back!"

"One. Two…" Snape counted with all the ominous-ness one could stuff into numbers.

"MOTHER OF GOD!" Ron screamed, pointing down the hall. As Snape turned, Ron shoved the door open and into Harry's nose.

"Ergh," Harry groaned. He slipped out as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him.

"What was that?" Snape demanded, head whipping round.

"Nothing," Ron said, eyes as round and innocent as humanly possible. "You know me and my spontaneous, totally random exclamations. Just can't help myself."

"I see." Severus' eyes were dangerously shrewd. "Well, tonight you'll take detention with me, where you will emit a few _other _spontaneous exclamations, such as, 'Please, God, make it stop,' 'Oh, the pain, the agony,' and 'I'm never going to get these encrusted slugs out from under my fingernails.' See you at six, Mister Weasley."

"Yes, sir," Ron replied miserably. He turned to go.

"Oh, and Weasley?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Tell Mister Potter he may join us as well, for undoubtedly putting you up to whatever you were doing just now."

"But—but you can't prove—you don't know—" Ron spluttered.

Snape smiled thinly. "Perhaps not. But 'fair and impartial' is for Gryffindors, politicians, blatant liars and corrupt news sources, _not _for Potions Masters. Good day."

Ron sighed. "Yes, sir."

OoOoOoOoO

"_Hermione! _This is a matter of life and death! Severus' death! Dumbledore's death! And—and lots of other bad things, like Voldemort taking over the world! You _have _to help!" Harry pleaded. He looked around wildly as Ron waved his arms, trying to signal that Madam Pince was nearby.

"_No_," Hermione replied after the librarian had passed. "And if you'd told me in the beginning you were going to do something like that, I would have saved you the trouble of stealing the book."

"How?" Ron queried.

"By telling you it would be pointless, because I wouldn't help you make the potion!" Hermione retorted angrily.

"You made that _other _potion," Ron argued.

"That was before Snape had a look at the thing—in his right mind, at least—and told me how dangerous it was!"

"Why do you always have to do the right thing? Why do you always have to side with the teachers? Why can't you see what's important?" Harry ranted.

"I can! I do! I've helped you any number of times—against the rules, and against my own better judgment! But the potion you're looking at—I don't _like _it! It's…really invasive, and difficult. This is…one of the riskiest looking potions I've ever read of. Harry, it doesn't _feel _right. Call it women's intuition if you like."

"Fine," Harry retorted, slamming the book shut. "_Fine. _You know, you're not the only one who can make a potion." He stomped away as Madam Pince glared. He didn't need Hermione. He'd do it on his own.

OoOoOoOoO

"_Tell him no_," Harry could hear Blaise hiss.

Colin stiffened. "Harry…I…I—"

"He's a year behind us, anyway!" Blaise growled. "How much help could he possibly be?"

"Then why don't _you _lend some assistance?" Harry challenged.

"Absolutely not. You're an _idiot, _Potter, and I'm not getting dragged into whatever half-baked scheme you've come up with. Leave us out. Come on, Colin."

Colin looked from Harry to Blaise, then back to Harry, then back to Blaise, lip quivering.

"Colin—you _don't _have to _listen _to him!" Zabini said, gesticulated wildly.

"He doesn't have to listen to _you_, either," Harry said coldly.

"Colin…" Blaise stared at the boy.

Colin looked at his lap, swallowing.

"_Fine_," Zabini snarled, and got up to leave.

Colin looked up at Harry slowly, shaking his head. "Sorry, Harry," he said quietly.

Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Why did you want _his _help, anyway?"

Harry blinked a bit. "I don't know. I don't know! All right? I just…you just get used to things. I mean, some things _always happen_, and you get to count on them happening," Harry tried to explain miserably. "Like how Hagrid always stands up for Dumbledore, and how Peeves is always rude, and the Dursleys are always wankers…well, Colin is always, _you _know…encouraging."

Ron gave Harry a knowing look. "Harry, you didn't have a bit of a thing for Colin, did you? I mean…all right, yeah, I'm pretty much used to Snape now, so it doesn't seem as scrotty as it used to, but…Colin _Creevey_? Why not pash with Mickey Mouse?"

Harry laughed a little. "Yeah. I mean, no. I didn't have a thing for Colin. I was just used to him, I guess. Maybe it's selfish, but it was always kind of nice that, even if I've been with Severus for a while, that other people still _looked _at me that way, you know?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess. Though the last time Luna Lovegood smiled at me in the hall, Hermione gave her a look that would have turned a lesser girl—or at least one actually paying attention—to stone. So as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather other girls _didn't _look at me that way, because it makes me ruddy nervous."

Harry's smile widened. "Snape looks like that sometimes, too. Isn't it funny, that we both—"

"Hello, Harry," Ginny said, smiling sweetly as she passed.

Harry wondered what was wrong. No tears? No womanly—or, at the moment—girlish fury of a woman scorned? No flirting?

"You know, Ginny's in advanced Potions this year," Ron noted.

Harry did a double take. "She is? Really? You think I should ask her for help?"

"Well, you know _I'm _crap at Potions."

"Right." Harry took to his heels and ran after Ginny, calling her name.

She turned and smiled brightly. "What's up, Harry?"

Harry _really _hoped the smile was genuine, and that she wasn't really about to hit him over the head with a schoolbook. He'd seen Hermione smile that nicely before, and he'd come to the conclusion that girls only ever smiled nicely when they wanted something, or were about to tear into you for something. "Um. Could you help me with something? The thing is…it has to be done quickly. Like _tonight _quickly. Please?" he asked as politely as he could, eyeing her stack of books warily. "I'm in a bit of a jam…you want me to carry these for you?"

She looked pleased. "Sure. You can tell me what you want on the way to class."

Harry was happy to render her semi-weaponless, although he was aware that she also carried a wand. After all, she was a Gryffindor, and not many Gryffindors would raise their wands against a man whose hands were full. It was a comforting thought.

"Ron says you're crackerjack in Potions this semester," he said.

"I'm ace. Why?"

Harry gulped, leaning down to explain his problem.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus swept through the halls, roasting any miscreants with his infamous glare. The periods of time when the exasperating monkeys were free to roam the halls were some of his least favourite times of day. This was, luckily, somewhat balanced out by his own freedom to scare the hell out of them as he saw fit, but still, the pleasure derived was somewhat hollow.

Especially when he saw things like Potter and the Weasley Wench traipsing about together.

Especially when the two young brats were practically arm in arm, and he was carrying her books.

Especially when Harry bent his head to whisper in the aggravating little tart's ear.

Severus' eyes narrowed. He would not be at all surprised to find Potter dabbling in heterosexuality; it was to be expected at his age, and he was likely angry that he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted from Snape the evening before. Still, it rather stung, and the boy ought to have at least had the sense to be discreet about it.

He plucked the boy out of circulation, yanking him away from the girl. "Mister Potter. A moment of your time, please?"

Harry looked helplessly from the repulsive redhead to Snape and then to the books in his arms. "Oh, blast. Ginny, I'm sorry, but I—"

"Don't worry, Harry," she said kindly. "I got the gist of it, and I'll help."

"Really?" Severus was manifestly unhappy with the way those green eyes lit up, and gave the boy a good whack across the back of the head.

"Ouch!"

"I thought I ought to tell you, in case Mister Weasley had not passed along the information, that you'll be spending the evening scrubbing cauldrons."

"Yes, I know, but—wait, can we do that tomorrow?"

"I'm otherwise occupied tomorrow, and I do not arrange detentions according to _your busy social schedule, _in any case," Snape ground out.

"Well, of course not, but I—"

"Don't worry, Harry," the bitch jumped in again cheerfully. "I can take care of things, even if Hermione won't help. I can get a few friends to help, and we'll have it ready for you in the morning."

The boy boggled. "You _will_? That's right nice of you, Ginny! Thanks! I should—"

"You should shut your mouth and get to your class," Snape snarled, and Ginny took back her books.

Harry smiled weakly as the girl winked at him and scurried away.

As far as Severus was concerned, the weekend was not going to be a good one. Even if he hadn't started off with any qualms about his upcoming meeting, beaming Weasleys and a simpering Potter seemed a grave, grave omen.


	21. ‘Good’ Doesn’t Necessarily Mean ‘Right’

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-One  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry is going full-steam ahead with his plans, from forcing Snape to learn the Patronus Charm to rescuing Dumbledore. He has friends to help him and enemies to hinder him… but he may not be right about which is which.

**Chapter Twenty-One: 'Good' Doesn't Necessarily Mean 'Right'**

Harry squirmed in his seat, glancing up at the clock.

"Stop that," Snape instructed. "If you're not going to listen to my lecture, then I can find something _else _for you to do—something to work off that nervous energy."

"Really?" Harry replied, distracted.

Ron groaned and beat his head against his potions book.

"I wasn't considering anything sexual, Mister Weasley," Snape told him with a glare. "Not with _you _around. Trust me, the man who could sustain an erection in your presence would have to be some sort of phenom."

Ron went brick red with outrage, and Harry coughed. "Ignore him," he said. "He's as worked up about things as I am, and it makes him worse."

Snape arched a brow. He chose to ignore Harry. "Weasley, come to the front of the classroom and demonstrate for Mister Potter how one adds rat spleens to a Plasma Potion. Potter, pay attention. Believe it or not, you may actually _need_ this knowledge in the future, and Miss Granger is not here to store it away in the hive brain."

Ron sidled up to the desk, wrinkling his nose at the gore in the cauldron. "This is really gross," he said. "Even if it _is _useful."

"It can save lives when part of a medicinal treatment, particularly in those with some sort of malady of the blood. It is new blood," the Professor stated, "so unlike solutions that strengthen the blood already present, it is _clean_."

"So?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Don't know how 'clean' it could be, anyway; it's _blood._"

"I mean it carries no disease."

Harry was watching closely. "You mean sometimes a potion _will _carry a disease?" His eyes glittered. "Wow."

"Yes."

Ron dropped the rat spleens in one at a time. The potion shimmered. "Huh."

"Very good," Snape said quietly. "Almost astounding. Now add the black widow legs."

Ron reached forward and grabbed one. Something in the pile shifted. "AUGH! AUGH! AUGHABAHGAU!" he screamed, leaping back, his arm upending the cauldron. "IT MOVED! ONE OF THEM MOVED!"

Snape heaved a great sigh, a puddle of liquid congealing at his feet. "I think," he said, "that we shall do lines for the remainder of the evening."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Ron sighed, wiping the chalk dust on his robes. "Good grief. Five hundred repetitions of SPIDERS ARE NOT AS SCARY AS PROFESSOR SNAPE. Your boyfriend is a real sadist, you know that?"

"I know," Harry replied, nodding in agreement, finishing his own five-hundredth IF I WANT SOMETHING TO DO, PROFESSOR SNAPE WILL GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO. He didn't mind so much for himself, but it really wasn't fair to Ron—he couldn't _help _being afraid of spiders.

"Be quiet, both of you," Snape snapped, pacing near the other end of the room.

Both boys shot a glare over their shoulders. "Git," Harry muttered.

"Lucky you," Snape said loudly. "You've just bought yourself another hour in my company after Mister Weasley has left, Mister Potter. Now _do _be quiet."

Harry's fingers tightened on the chalk and he clenched his teeth. "Yes, sir."

When Ron left, he gave Harry a rueful little wave. "Sorry, mate."

Harry managed a half smile. "Not your fault. I got us into this mess," he added in an undertone.

"Another five hundred repetitions, I think," Snape told the student.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've got out of learning the Patronus Charm. You're really good at distracting me, but you're not getting away with it tonight. Come on, let's go to your rooms."

Severus blinked, thinking quickly. "I'm the professor, you'll damn well do as I—"

"None of that," Harry said firmly. "There are times I'll defer to you because I think you know better, or because I don't want to undermine your authority. This isn't one of those times. If you wanted to teach me a lesson, you did. Some things are more important, and the Patronus Charm is one of them." He was walking out of the room already, and Severus followed him down the hall, protesting all the while.

"Potter, believe me when I tell you that I'm incapable of—"

"Then I incapable of learning Occlumency? Am I incapable of beating Voldemort? Should we just give up?" Harry demanded.

Snape was silent.

When they reached the man's door, Harry turned to him. "You know how you always force me to learn stuff I'm not really interested in? You know how you worry about me when you think I'm going to get in over my head?" He took Snape's hand. "I worry about you, too."

"All right," Snape replied quietly, looking at their joined hands.

"Good. Liquor cabinet?"

"Yes. He keeps me out of it. I've spent a good week stone cold sober. Shocking, isn't it?"

Harry grinned. "It really is, if only because I know I drive you to drink. Ready?" He moved before the cabinet, flicking his wand.

The large, grey shape poured out, and Harry stepped aside. "Go."

Snape raised his wand. "_Expecto Patronum._" Nothing happened, so he cleared his throat and tried again, remembering Sirius Black falling through the veil. Unfortunately, this made him feel as much guilt as anything else, and the next _Expecto Patronum _did nothing. Harry took a step forward, but before he could do anything, the boggart shifted forms.

Now there were two Harrys.

One was much taller than the other, though. He was well-muscled, proud, perfect, his eyes cold and his lips curled into a disgusted sneer. He was a Harry that had never existed and, for all Snape knew, never would. He was a Harry of some possible future, the Harry who saw himself the way the rest of the world saw him—as someone who deserved better than Snape.

He didn't wear glasses, because he cared too much about his looks, and had got his vision corrected. His hair had been tamed, and was pulled back into a fashionable ponytail. His clothes fitted, and were clean and ironed. He was beautiful, though not, perhaps, as beautiful as the real Harry.

He gave Snape a contemptuous look, shaking his head. Snape fancied he saw the man's strong frame give a slight shudder. With one last glance of intense dislike, the boggart-Harry turned his head and began sauntering away, moving as fluidly and sensually as Blaise, never looking back.

"What the _hell_?" the real Harry demanded. He gave his wand a wave, and the boggart-Harry was suddenly balding and rather chubby. He turned, looking angry, and Snape saw that his glasses were back and thicker than bottle bottoms, making his eyes humorously large, and the Potions Master managed a slight grunt of laughter.

The real Harry banished the other back into the cabinet. Snape shifted from one foot to the other, trying to think of something to say. "I apologize," he began, his voice sounding oddly rusty.

"No. Don't. It's not as if you get a choice about what you fear, is it?" Harry responded, not looking at the man. "Is that—is that really what you—?" He shook himself. He finally met Snape's eyes, his own filled with hurt and disappointment. "You know, no matter how old I get, or how big I get," he said in a croaky voice, "I'm not going to _do _anything to you."

"That—that's not the point—"

"I think—I can't—" Harry said with a cough, turning his head and wiping furiously at his eyes. "I can't deal with this right now. I've got to—go. I reckon we both have things we need to do tomorrow." He practically ran to the door.

Snape stood miserably in the centre of the room, unable to think of anything terribly useful to say.

Harry paused before leaving. "I just—just so you know, you don't have to be afraid of me." He shut the door carefully behind him, keeping his face averted.

Severus let out a long, shaky breath. So the boy had finally seen. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, but knew that the truth had to come out eventually. He doubted that Harry understood what Severus was really afraid of, but the man was incapable of saying it out loud. Harry had almost certainly not noticed that the boggart-Harry had been walking away.

Snape shut his eyes, steeling himself. He was not the sort of man who could come out and talk about things like that, but maybe there was one way he could mitigate the disappointment he'd seen in those bright eyes.

He readied his wand, approaching the cabinet. Hell, maybe it would even be easier, without the real Harry watching. It was time to banish his fears. Potter was just a boy, and already he was better at it than Snape—already he was a stronger man than Snape.

And though it wouldn't be enjoyable, Snape knew that he'd keep at it until he was over it.

He would not let Harry down.

OoOoOoOoO

"This is it?" Harry asked apprehensively. He tilted the vial from side to side, watching the bubbles fizz to the top. "And you're sure it's right?"

"Yes, Harry," Ginny said, her knees touching his. They'd gotten up early and had met in the common room before anyone else had risen. For some reason, she looked rather pale, and didn't berate Harry for doubting her skills.

"So. What's going to happen?" Harry asked when he'd overcome the strange sense of foreboding that had risen in his chest.

Ginny took several breaths. "As soon as you've taken it, you'll find you're able to smell things. It'll be overwhelming for a few minutes, but you mustn't be frightened. Your body will quickly become acclimated to the new ability. Soon you'll find yourself able to sort and process scents. That's—that's when you should go; you must not linger. It only lasts for two hours."

"Right," Harry said with a firm nod. "Down the hatch, then." He swallowed deeply, pulling a face as the bubbles began to tickle his nose. He lowered his head, pinching his nostrils together. "Weird. Oh, wow, that feels really, really strange."

Ginny leant over, her hair swinging over Harry's shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked worriedly. "Does it hurt?"

Harry sneezed. "Yikes! No… but I guess it does sting a little."

After a few minutes, Harry gave a large sniff, his pupils dilating. "I think it's working," he said. "Wait here—I'm going back up to wake Ron."

Ginny gave him a weak smile. "Great! Should—should I get Hermione, too?"

"No. She'd only be a wet blanket. She keeps insisting I'm taking too great a risk, so we just won't bother with her, then, right? Only the _real _Gryffindors are going on _this _little adventure."

The redhead laughed. "Right, Harry. And we'll show everyone—we'll rescue Dumbledore and—and—it'll be just wonderful. Because we're the house of winners, right?"

Harry gave her a strained smile in response. "Sure. Just practice your pose for the cereal box, and I'll be back in a mo."

OoOoOoOoO

Severus dressed in a hurry, flicking his wand and doing the charm that would fasten his many buttons. He glanced at himself in the mirror, which yawned at him. He scowled at his reflection. "So I'm not Didimus Fairbanks, Junior," he grumbled. "I'm only meeting Malfoy."

"You'll be standing next to the magnificence of a Malfoy and you can't be buggered to comb your hair?" the mirror exclaimed in disbelief. "Why don't you just turn me to face the wall?"

"Maybe I will!" Snape replied angrily, smoothing his hair down without thinking. He turned and hastily swept out the door, ignoring the mirror's wails about how all the other looking glasses thought it wasn't doing its job.

Snape didn't have time for silly things like good appearances; he had to get his report from Malfoy and get back to the castle—_before _that bloody idiot Potter went and bollixed things up again.

Really, he put up with a great deal for a nice bum and a sweet pair of lips. And after all, he told himself, it wasn't as though he was in a rush to see Lucius—he was just in a rush to get the whole blasted encounter over with.

OoOoOoOoO

"Neville? You're coming, too?" The boy followed Ron hastily down the stairs, still trying to get one shoe on. Harry was surprised, but supposed he shouldn't have been. After all, for all his faults, Neville was a true friend, and not at all a coward.

"Sure, Harry. I want to help if I can. Where do we start?"

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. "I think we should start near Dumbledore's office," Ron suggested. "That's where he spent most of his time, so you'll probably pick up the best scent there."

"Great idea," Harry said, relieved. Without Hermione, he felt embarrassingly as though he needed some direction.

"Let's go," Ginny urged.

When they got to the portal, they were startled to find Colin Creevey creeping in. "What are you doing?" Harry demanded. "Were you out all night?"

"That's none of your business," a flustered voice responded. "And what are _you _doing up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday?"

Harry glared at Blaise, who stood behind Colin, but it was Ginny who answered. "_That's _none of _your _business, and everyone here already knows what _you _were doing—taking advantage of poor little Colin Creevey!"

"I'm not little!" Colin protested. "And he wasn't taking advantage!" His flushed cheeks and mussed hair shed some doubt on the statement, but Harry didn't have time to argue.

"Well, you two keep your mouths shut. We didn't see you and you didn't see us, got it?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "What ill-advised nonsense are you getting up to now?"

"Shut up!" Harry snapped, leaning close. "I'll hex you _so _hard, don't think I won't!" Blaise's smell was overpowering this close—something sweet, like baby powder or newborn puppies. Harry wrinkled his nose. "What _is _that?"

"Stop it; both of you!" Colin tried to pry them away from each other, and _he _smelled unexpectedly dark, like some sort of musky cologne. "We shouldn't be fighting—we're all on the same side! We just have different ideas of how to approach it," he placated.

Harry shook his head. "I've taken a Bloodhound Brew. We're going to see if we can figure out where they took Dumbledore. Colin, if we're not back in three hours, tell McGonagall. _Not before, _do you understand?"

"That's the barmiest thing I've ever heard! Do you want to get everyone killed?" Blaise burst out.

"_Incarcerous!"_ Harry snarled, and Blaise toppled to the ground. "Here, help me pull him into the common room. We'll stick him behind the sofa for now."

"_Harry…_" Colin said in a horrified voice, his eyes round.

"Just think of this as practice at curse-breaking," Harry responded. "If you can get him free from it, then good for you. As for us, we have things to do." He turned to the rest of the group. "Ready?" Ginny and Neville looked rather sick, but Ron gave Harry a determined nod. "Good. Then let's get out of here before something _else _goes wrong."

OoOoOoOoO

Severus kept his head down as he drifted down the alley. It wasn't as though he wasn't often in Knockturn, but today he didn't especially want to be noticed. If attention was drawn to him, it could result in his death, or—less tragically—Malfoy's.

The man was waiting for him in a dark corner in small shop that was really a front for the sale of prohibited substances. As Snape had contributed a potion or two in his time, he was neither conspicuous nor unwelcome.

Malfoy hovered near a stack of pickled slugs, staring vacantly out the window. Snape gathered he was worried about being followed.

"Don't worry, no one saw me," Severus said in lieu of a greeting. "Save for my troubles with a maddening green-eyed youth, my discretion and cunning are equalled by none. Nothing to fear."

Lucius didn't answer, but a teenager chose this moment to rush past them—probably high on Zoom or Quiff, Snape supposed—jostling them both, and Lucius grunted slightly.

"You're hardly your usual vicious self," Snape noted, examining his fingernails casually. "On any normal day that boy would have gotten an thorough 'getting to know you session' vis-à-vis your snake-headed cane. What's the problem, old man? You're not going soft on me, are you?"

There was a long silence in which Snape fully expected to be smacked over the head, or at least sworn at, but no such thing happened. "No," Lucius said dully.

Snape glanced up from his fingers. "Did something happen?" he asked with concern. Lucius' eyes were glassy, and Severus felt a chill trickle down his spine. "Something _did _happen. Imperius happened. _Shit._" He looked around to make sure they were alone. He took Lucius by the shoulders just as Lucius tried to draw his wand and Snape began shaking him roughly. "I know you're in there, damn you! Get a grip on yourself! Overcome it! You're Lucius Malfoy, blast you! You can't go about letting other people use your body! Think of what it would do to the world."

"Severus," Lucius mumbled, but he was still attempting to draw his wand.

Right, then. Desperate times. Severus let go of Lucius' arms, grabbing his face instead and kissing him firmly on the lips.

When he drew back to take a breath, Lucius looked staggered. "You _kissed _me," he said distastefully.

"Moving on…" Snape replied, smoothing his hair down.

"You haven't tried to do that since we were back at school," Lucius noted.

"The subject has been _dropped, _Malfoy," Severus replied. "You were obviously in dire straits, and I did what was expected of me. You know perfectly well that a giant shock can help jar you back into yourself."

"Yes," said Lucius softly. "Thank you."

"Don't expect cuddling afterward," Snape said quellingly.

"Sir!"

Both men turned, astounded by the mousy boy standing in the doorway, his face white as a sheet. "Oh, sir! Thank goodness I found you!"

"_Creevey_?" Severus was utterly taken aback. "What the deuce are you doing in Knockturn Alley, and how did you _get _here?"

"Blaise had a tracking spell on you. He told me to find you! I couldn't get the ropes off his arms and legs but I did manage to undo the curse holding his mouth shut and he said I needed to find you _at once _and tell you what was going on even though I wanted to stay and help him get loose but really I expect that I wouldn't have been able to anyw—"

"Dear Merlin! Take a breath!" Lucius said, intrigued. "Do you always speak this way? Are you keeping an extra set of lungs somewhere?"

"No, sir!" Creevey replied, looking terrified and delighted at being addressed by one of the supposed banes of the Order.

"Calm down, boy," Snape instructed. "What happened?"

"Sir—oh, _sir! _It's _Harry_!"

Snape rubbed his forehead. "Not _again…_"


	22. Beneath the Surface

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-Two  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: The traitor is revealed.

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Beneath the Surface**

"What is it like, Harry? What is it like?" Ron and the others trotted behind the Boy Who Lived, wands drawn, struggling to keep up while still keeping an eye out for danger.

Harry paused, sniffing at the wind. "… It's _amazing,_" he whispered. He had to be quiet. He didn't know why—just that he needed quiet right now, to focus, to concentrate. The Bloodhound Brew had increased Harry's sense of smell by more than he could calculate. They'd gone back to Dumbledore's office, where Harry had been able to tell his scent immediately—an odd, sweetish-sour smell, like citrus and old socks. It didn't smell _dirty, _but it did smell a bit elderly.

Harry memorized it, and was sure he could track it across a mountain range—so long as he didn't get distracted. The smell of damp, rotting leaves under their feet, rising whenever they moved forward, was nearly overwhelming. The lake, deep and dark and fragrant, steady on his left helped anchor Harry. The sharp, clean promise of snow in the air tumbled around in Harry's head, causing his bloodstream to zing with the thought _Hurry, hurry, hurry, before the trail turns really cold. _

"But… but what's it _like_?" Neville queried timidly, searching Harry's face.

Harry shook his head as he led them through the trees. "No words can come close," he said. "Wait! Horse!"

Everyone fell silent at Harry's raised hand. After silence stretched out into several minutes, they heard crackling in the underbrush as some large animal or animals walked past.

"It is…" Harry heard a deep voice rumble. It was the voice of a centaur, and all of the students held their breaths, knowing that centaurs would be unlikely to view their trespassing as justifiable.

"What shall happen, shall happen. It is written in the stars," another voice said. Despite the complacent words, Harry could smell the creature's fear, thick and fragrant in the air. Ginny smelled frightened, too—sour, bitter and acidic.

The other snorted. "Just as you say. However, regardless of what the stars say, my feet are here in the forest, and that forest has been invaded. I am deeply vexed by the intrusion. Someone crept past me earlier this very night… It is disturbing."

"No one can fight the stars," the other said firmly, and the voices began to move away.

"… guard our dominion…" Harry heard one mutter as it floated back to him on the breeze.

"Does that mean other people have been here before us?" Neville whispered.

"Yes! That means we're on the right track!" Ron said excitedly.

"Yeah… great," Harry added, feeling uneasy. Something wasn't right. The smell of fear was almost _choking _him. "Come on," he said, shaking himself out of his agitation. "The smell goes down toward the lake."

They reached the cold, placid waters before the scent stopped, and Harry knelt down, following the Headmaster's scent to the dark surface.

Then he realized what was wrong.

"RUN!" he screamed. Arms reached up out of the water, grasping him firmly, wrestling him down. Harry struggled, still crying out, and saw dark shapes burst from the direction of the trees, Neville raising his wand and letting loose a chilly blast of blue wind, Ron tumbling to the ground… and Ginny's terrified face, staring at him from the distance.

OoOoOoOoO

Granger and Blaise met Snape and the others before they'd made it to the castle doors. "He went that way!" Granger shouted, pointing.

"How do you know? What's happened?"

"I don't know what he's thinking—but I knew he was up to _something, _so I sewed a Stalking Spell into his shoes. I got the curse off Blaise and we came to find you, but I really think someone should tell Professor McGonagall and—"

"Then go," Snape said. "I'll go after Harry."

Granger shook her head frantically, bushy curls flying. "I can't! I'm the one connected to the spell!"

"I'll go," Colin offered, and Snape nodded. The boy pressed a kiss to Blaise's cheek before running off, and the others tactfully said nothing.

"I'm coming with you," Blaise told the man.

"What for?" Lucius long hair whipped in the frigid wind.

"Well, I _can't_ let the Death Eaters kill Potter. I still want to get vengeance for that hex he cast on me."

Snape briefly considered the danger the children would be in, but deep inside, in his darkest heart, he knew that they might serve as a distraction, and that he'd sacrifice one or both of them for Harry's sake. It was this calculating, merciless aspect of Snape that had led him to become a Death Eater, and tonight the Death Eater wanted loose again.

He swallowed his baser instincts back and nodded once, sharply. "We've no time to waste arguing," he said, shoving Granger and forcing her to keep ahead of his long strides.

They ran.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry managed to tear himself away from the merman's hands, stumbling and falling to the ground. He got back on his feet, still slipping a bit in the slick mud of the bank.

"Drop your wands, or the girl dies," a masked Death Eater said calmly, his wand to Ginny's neck.

"Ginny!" Ron cried, looking to Harry for guidance.

Harry swallowed hard, closing his eyes. How could he do this to Ron? What choice did he have? What difference would it even make?

Harry's nose began to bleed, and he pressed his hand to his face. "I… Ron, don't. She's one of them. I still don't want her to die, but… she's one of them, I reckon."

Every freckle stood out on Ron's white face, and he looked like he was going to be ill. "How can you say that?" he asked in a strangled voice. "Harry, she wouldn't do that. You don't understand. You don't have any real family. Real family doesn't do that."

It hurt, but that was how Ron was raised, and Harry knew that even in the closest families, within the closest group of friends, betrayal could creep up like a vine, twisting round one's throat to strangle them. Pettigrew was proof enough of that.

"Ron, she reeked of terror back in the forest. Even more than Neville. The centaurs said there were people creeping about the forest—but Dumbledore disappeared _weeks _ago, so why would they still be here? Ron—it was a trap."

Ron shook his head. "No…"

"She gave me the potion."

"No!"

Harry dabbed at his nose with his sleeve. "Ron… I'm bleeding."

Ron looked to Ginny, who didn't meet his eyes.

"You… _couldn't_…" he said.

"Oh. Oh, my head… _Ron_," Harry said, reaching out blindly. He could feel a buzzing in his nasal cavity, the stinging growing worse. He could smell nothing but blood, profuse and coppery. And _pain..._

Ron grabbed him around the waist as Harry staggered.

"Oh, _Harry_! I'm so sorry! Harry, I'm so sorry!" Ginny shrieked, horrified. "They said they wouldn't hurt you! You said—you said—you promised!" she twisted in the man's grip, but he merely held her tighter, chuckling.

"You can have him when the Dark Lord's finished with him."

"What's left of him, anyway," another laughed.

"No! You promised! He's mine! MINE!" Ginny wailed, kicking and thrashing.

"You were supposed to be my friend," Harry said dully. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea that one of the Weasleys had betrayed him. They were his family, or the closest thing he had.

"Ron, take Harry and run, I'll hold them off," Neville suggested, his face screwed up in determination.

Ron had whipped off his cloak and was pressing it to Harry's face, trying to staunch the blood flow. "I don't reckon Harry's up for running," he said tensely.

"Then—then—get behind me," Neville begged.

"Neville, you can't possibly—"

"Get behind me!" Neville was sweating, his round face earnest. "It may not be much, but I'll do whatever I can," he vowed, raising his wand. "_PETRIFICUS TOTALUSI_" he roared, and one of the smaller Death Eaters toppled to the ground. "I did it," Neville marvelled. "I really did it!"

"Great," Harry moaned through the blood. His vision was beginning to get blurry. "Now just get rid of the others…" Ron pinched Harry's nose, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"I—I—what should I do?" Neville asked, looking round.

Ron tried casting a spell to get Harry's bleeding to stop, but was felled by a jet of water before he could complete the charm. "Ron!" Harry cried, trying to crawl to his friend. "I don't know, Neville!" he yelled. "Try something! Try _anything_!"

"_Protego_!" Neville shouted, and a curse bounced off of him. "I can't keep this up!" he yelled.

Harry looked up at Neville through a fog. It was getting colder. "Y'r doin' great," he mumbled. God, how he missed Snape. His mother began screaming somewhere in the distance. "Great, Neville," he sighed. "Keep… it… up…" Everything began to go black.

OoOoOoOoO

It was cold, and getting colder. It was more than just the early winter air—Snape could feel a chill creeping up his spine and trying to burrow into his heart. Something in Snape's soul was cringing, and he could feel the Dark Mark burning on his arm, and he ran, he ran, he _ran, _cloak whipping behind him, his fingers biting into his wand, his breath harsh and fast. He no longer needed the girl to guide him, and he quickly outdistanced both her and Zabini, Malfoy hot on his heels.

The man suddenly grabbed Severus round the waist, nearly sending them both to the ground. "I see them—see? There—the side of the lake," Lucius hissed, nodding.

Snape started forward. Lucius did not.

Severus glanced over his shoulder, eyes burning.

"I _daren't, _Severus," his long-time friend and adversary told him, and Severus knew he would not. Albus always wanted to believe the best in people, but the best that could be said for Malfoy was that he would be at your side if there were something in it for him. Severus had known that from the beginning—Lucius Malfoy was a walking example of too-high expectations.

Severus gave him a long, cool look and turned his back. He strode toward the commotion on lean legs, raising his wand, and picked an adult at random. "_Incendio!" _he bellowed.

In the flare of light that followed as his target burst into flames, Severus decided that he had likely struck Bellatrix. A high-pitched shriek followed, and screams, and the figure fell, writhing, to be consumed.

There was a long moment of stillness, as everyone watched the woman's death in horror. This allowed Severus to cast another curse, though he didn't think his quarry was killed this time. Pushing back his own disgust, fear, and qualms, he tried again, but already the Death Eaters were regrouping.

"It's the traitor!" Rodolphus' voice roared, and he tried to cast Avada Kedavra, but Severus was already moving, throwing himself to the ground.

"Harry!" he called out, but Harry didn't answer.

"Help!" he heard the Weasley boy shout. "Neville can't hold them off much longer!" Severus wondered why Longbottom was allowed to be doing anything at all, and why Weasley wasn't doing it himself, but then a white-hot pain lanced his side, driving all thoughts from his mind.

It was time to fight. There was nothing for it. Severus stopped being Albus Dumbledore's spy, stopped being Hogwarts' Potions Master, stopped being the anti-hero that all good people thought he was, and reverted to the thing he'd been made into. Severus Snape dropped the mask and became the Death Eater.

He spat curses, running, stumbling, clawing his way through the mud on the bank. He grunted countercurses, rolled and weaved, and he demonstrated no pity. He could have killed them all. He _would _have killed them all. He certainly wanted to.

Harry's voice did not come.

The air shimmered to his left, and the Dark Lord appeared, his red eyes glowing with pleasure at the carnage. "Ah, Severus. Such a very good assassin you are. You were made for this. Are you sure you don't want to find your way back to the fold? I'm the only one that can sate your unquenchable blood lust," he pointed out, nearly purring with smugness.

Severus considered this. "Yes," he acknowledged quietly. "You are." He swallowed and cried, "_Avada Kedavra!_" but the man—the monster—had vanished, only to reappear several paces to the right, looking noticeably less smug.

"Very well. If you aren't on my side, then you're a bit of a hindrance, and you'll be dealt with accordingly." Before he could lift his wand, Snape was on him, scrabbling and swearing, giving up on magic altogether, trying to rend the Dark Lord limb from limb.

"If he dies—if he dies—" Severus choked out, furious. He got his hands round the man's throat, and they tingled unpleasantly—some kind of poison, he assumed—but he wouldn't stop—he wasn't going to stop—

"You mustn't! You mustn't!" the Granger chit was crying, but he didn't know if it was directed at him

"Yes, I bloody well must!" an angry voice retorted. "He's choking on his own blood! _Anapneo!_"

There was a cough, and a garbled "Thank you" that sounded a bit like Harry.

"Professor, Harry's alive and—we've won," a tearful Hermione informed the man, and he glanced over her in astonishment. As soon as he turned his head, Voldemort _exploded— _there was no other word for it, really—and he was rocked back on his heels as the man vanished.

"Oh!" Granger gasped, horrified, and whipped out her wand immediately, drenching him with cool water. "Oh, Professor! Are you hurt terribly? We need to get you and Harry back to the hospital wing right away!"

"Just a bit singed," Snape replied wearily, looking down at his red, blistered hands. The scent of burnt flesh was everywhere, but Severus didn't think most of it was because of him. Bellatrix was a charred bit of nothing, now, her too-still body a lump of ash. He smiled nastily. "Bella barbeque," he remarked, ignoring the utterly appalled look Granger gave him.

"—the water! In the water! Hurry!" someone was shouting, and Severus looked over blearily to see Blaise waving frantically. He tried to stand and go to the boy's assistance, but _God, _how it hurt, and he couldn't seem to push himself up.

"Stay," Granger instructed. "Lucius Malfoy, you come out here right now. If you're really on our side, then we need help, and the other Death Eaters have gone."

Malfoy ghosted into view, his eyes darting from the small redheaded girl crying on the ground—did Severus know her? He couldn't remember her name—to the blank-looking Longbottom—well, even more blank-looking than usual—over to Blaise, still carrying on.

"It's getting cold again," Longbottom noted, and Lucius looked up sharply.

"Yes," the man said. "The Dementors are returning. They may well have been frightened off by the sheer freakish force of Severus' fury, but now we're very vulnerable."

The boy Weasley, whose head was being cradled in Granger's lap, winced a little, shifting. "And Harry's the only one who can make a proper Patronus," he said, but Lucius was no longer listening.

"Good heavens," Malfoy murmured, peering into the water.

Severus wanted more than anything for the fight to be over, but if there was still a threat, he had to face it. "Whazzit?" he managed, getting to his knees and craning his neck.

"Stop moving about!" Hermione commanded angrily. "Those are third degree burns, you imbecile! Do you _want _to die?"

Snape managed a cracked and bloody smile. "I've taught them so well," he muttered. "Hush, girl. I'm not important. Keep your wand ready for other things. What _is _it?" he demanded of Malfoy, who was now waist deep in the lake with Blaise, struggling to bring something swathed in seaweed to the surface.

The man paused for a moment, his face sweating as he directed his wand here, then there, cutting away the weeds. "Good heavens," he repeated dully. "It's Albus Dumbledore."


	23. Where the Deer and the Dementors Play

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-Three  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Severus fights for Harry, Harry fights for Severus, and if they can survive the Dementors, they can survive anything.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Where the Deer and the Dementors Play**

Dimly, Severus heard Granger and Malfoy screaming at each other, and woke up enough to look over at them. Odd, but he couldn't remember when he'd started "spacing out." He supposed he must be going into shock. Judging by the look on Longbottom's face, the boy was well on his way to doing the same. Blaise was the only one doing anything useful; he kept casting warming charms on the Headmaster. The young Weasley girl was a sniffling, snivelling wreck, curled up in a ball nearby, while the boy sat beside Harry, his face blank.

"Stop yelling," Severus managed to croak, and both Granger and Malfoy stopped screeching long enough to look over at him. He realized he was covered by Malfoy's cloak, and had been lain out on the grass like he was part of a body count. "I'm not dead yet," he added, sulkily.

"We were trying to keep you warm," Granger told him. "You were going into shock, and they keep coming back."

Severus blinked, and noticed that beyond their group a mass of Dementors hovered, swirling above the lake and forest trees. "I've been using your potion on them, but I only have one left," Malfoy said. "I believe one of us should use it and run for help."

"That's ridiculous. You can't leave us behind," Hermione argued. "And neither Snape nor Harry would survive being hauled through the forest, willy-nilly, at any decent speed—and Merlin knows what that would do to Dumbledore."

"Do you have a better plan?"

"He's right," Severus said. "Only you need to go, as well. Blaise, too, and Longbottom, if you can impress upon his feeble mind the need to run."

"But—but what about you, Professor? What about all of you?"

"Winning wars means cutting losses. Besides, you're only a distraction to me right now. I can hold off the Dementors, but I don't need to be worrying about needless loss of healthy lives whilst doing so. Go, child."

Hermione's face hardened. "I'm not leaving Ron, and I'm not leaving Harry."

"_Stupefy_," Malfoy said tiredly, and she fell forward. He then levitated her, ignoring Ron's howls of protest. "Do you want her to die? Do you want her kissed by _them_ instead of yourself? I'll get her back to Hogwarts," the man informed him. "Now be quiet." He looked toward Severus. "Are you ready?"

Snape took several deep breaths before getting to his feet. It took him a while to steady himself, to mentally prepare for the task at hand. By the time he opened his eyes, Blaise had convinced Ginny to get to her feet and join them, and Neville was looking somewhat more lucid. Harry's nose trickled blood into the grass, and Ron was watching him, his face crumpled in an expression that told Severus he was trying very hard not to cry. "Boy," Snape called out hoarsely. "My left pocket." But Ron couldn't walk, so it was Blaise that came to him and retrieved the blood replenisher and administered it to Harry. It wasn't much, but might buy him another quarter of an hour.

Malfoy was looking down at a body with a strange, twisted smile on his face. "What is it?" Severus asked, but the man shook his head. "Are we ready yet?"

"If you are," Lucius finally said, straightening.

Severus nodded. "Go."

Lucius hurled the last bottle of Blustering Brew at the Dementors, hauling Hermione along behind him as he ran flat out. Blaise, Ginny and Neville followed at his heels, quickly disappearing into the forest.

"Guess it's just us, huh, Professor?" the Weasley boy asked. He sounded weary and frightened, and Snape tried to arrange his face into a pleasant expression, however little it suited him.

"Everything will be fine, I promise," he lied. He made his way over to the boy, who was trying to keep Harry's head elevated. "Take care of him, and let me worry about everything else," Snape advised.

Ron shook his head. "I think I'll go on worrying about everything, if it's all the same to you," he replied.

Even with Granger's and Malfoy's cloaks still tangled about his shoulders, Severus could feel the icy wind beginning to bite through. Now, atop the Dementors quickly closing in, the snow began to fall, drifting lazily down in spirals, obscuring Snape's vision. Somewhere, Severus's own mother was sobbing, and Ron had hugged his arms tightly around himself, muttering his sister's name. Severus' unsettled thoughts flitted back to the past, visiting a hundred shames and agonies. Clenching his teeth, he forcibly turned to face the present, tilting his head up and gazing out at the encroaching Dementors.

Snape closed his eyes and thought about Harry. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

OoOoOoOoO

Harry was so cold he could feel his teeth rattling, and there was a hand—a chilly hand—on the back of his neck. He shrugged it off with a wince, looking up at Ron, who mumbled an insincere apology.

"What's going on?"

"Shhh! He has to concentrate!"

Harry tried to sit up. He felt sort of wobbly, but the blood replenishing potion had helped. "_Who _has to concentrate?" He looked around, his mouth opening wide. "Oh. Oh my God. Is that—is that—?"

"Snape," Ron informed him, awe dripping from his voice. "He did a Patronus."

"He said he couldn't."

"Must've lied, then." A slender, glowing form waved a sword made of light at the dark creatures, and they fell back before gliding slowly forward again.

Both students stared for awhile, marvelling, before Harry shook his head. "It's a person. Snape's Patronus is a person."

"Yeah. Looks like a knight or something. Naw, too small," Ron corrected himself. "You know, I reckon it's a _kid. _I thought they were supposed to be animals. Who is it?"

Harry's eyes softened as he watched. "It's not a _kid_, exactly," he said, offended. "Just because it got locked in a cupboard and didn't do enough growing when it should…"

Ron took another look. "You're taking the piss! No way!" He started to laugh. "It's _you, _Harry, it really is—just look at its hair!" The silhouette jabbed at a Dementor that had gotten too close, and forced it back again.

"This can't go on much longer," Harry said. "Snape's got to be getting tired."

"Yeah," Ron said, casting another warming charm on Dumbledore. Harry gaped as he noticed the unconscious man.

"Wha—where—how?"

"You didn't notice? Malfoy and Zabini pulled him out of the lake."

"Oh." Harry frowned, thinking. Three of the people he cared about most were here, in terrible danger. He couldn't allow them to be hurt, even if he was in pain. "I have to help Severus," he said.

"Harry," Ron moaned. "You can't. You're still bleeding."

"Not as bad as I was," Harry said, trying to sound more confident and dismissive than he felt. "I'll be fine." He tried to stand, but his vision went sort of dark around the edges, and he had to sit down again.

"Not a great idea," Ron pointed out.

Harry glared at him. "I'll crawl, then." He got to his hands and knees and made his way toward Snape, leaving Ron to take care of the Headmaster.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus was feeling more fatigued by the moment. It seemed like a huge effort even to keep his arm raised—his wand felt like it was made of lead. The world felt swimmy and unreal, and the man was having a hard time focussing.

_I really did try, Harry, _he thought. _If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have lasted this long. I'm sorry. _

Just as his Patronus began to waver and flicker, it was suddenly replaced by a smaller, shabbier, and rather more bloody version of Harry Potter. "Hey," the boy said tiredly, reaching out a hand. Snape blinked down at him. "Help me up, would you?"

Flinching, Snape allowed the boy to grab his arm, lifting him to his feet. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" the man asked hoarsely.

Harry managed a weak smile. "Oh, you know. Went out looking for a bit of a thrill and got more than I bargained for. I always attract the weirdos and ghouls. You?"

Snape sighed. "I thought I'd try my hand at outdoor cooking. Blast—there goes the Patronus. Any more tricks up _your_ sleeve?"

Harry took a deep breath. "_Expecto Patronum!" _The ghostly buck leapt from the end of his wand, charging toward the Dementors and scattering them. The youth smiled a little, his eyes half-shut. "You're a good kisser," he reminisced.

Snape retrieved a vial of healing potion from an inner pocket and took a sip before offering it to Harry. "Go on—down the hatch. Tastes of chicken," he said encouragingly. Harry chuckled and Snape leaned down, kissing him soundly. The man trailed a series of feathery kisses over the boy's face. "And _you _taste of anise," he murmured.

Ever so slowly, the Patronus began to dim. Harry looked down at his wand, then up again, his face so worn and vulnerable that Snape's heart ached. "If one gets close enough, I could kick it in the shin," he offered.

"Ah. Well… I've never seen a Dementor's shin before, but I'm sure if anyone could manage it, it would be you," Severus responded, his voice strained. He couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, or if Harry seemed to be leaning more heavily on his arm.

"Or I could poke it in the eye," Harry mumbled. He was definitely putting more weight on Snape. The Potions Master's own world seemed to be slanting just a bit, as well.

"Chilly out tonight," Snape whispered.

They fell into darkness.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry woke on crisp, cool sheets. He looked to his left and saw Ron in the next bed, Hermione seated beside him, tenderly stroking his red hair with the back of her hand. She seemed to be almost dozing, her eyes shut, her hand moving rhythmically and without thought. Harry smiled, then turned his head. On his right was Snape, wearing clean new white pyjamas, making him look even older and more damaged than he probably really was.

He was breathing deeply, and his face was peaceful, so Harry didn't worry over him too much. He sat up on one elbow, and saw that there was a special bed made up for the Headmaster, and another figure in a bed across from the door. Harry couldn't see who it was, but the important people were all accounted for, and he nestled down in his bed again, satisfied.

The next time he opened his eyes, Snape was sitting up in his bed, eating toast, and Ron had gone. "Any sardines?" Harry asked with a smile.

Snape wrinkled his nose. "No. Any brain cells?" he asked.

Harry sobered. "I can see you're your usual snippy self. Yeah, I did something stupid—you're right—and I'm sorry. I never thought… I never thought Ginny, of all people…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I put you in danger."

"You put _yourself _in danger, which is a far more unforgivable act," Snape replied, looking uncomfortable. He looked down at his hands. "But you saved Albus, it seems, and the world ought to be grateful for that. Besides," he added bitterly, "after you'd gotten into trouble, my own actions in response were rash at best."

Harry studied the man for a long moment. He looked truly miserable. "Do you regret killing Bellatrix?" he asked curiously.

Snape's lip curled contemptuously. "She would have killed me, had she the opportunity, so I don't regret her death. I do regret her suffering," he added quietly, after pondering it some moments. "But mostly out of a selfish fear of disgusting you."

Harry looked out the bright window of the hospital wing, the winter sunlight warm across his face. "I'm not disgusted," he said eventually. "I'm a little sad, even though I know that might seem strange, considering she killed Sirius. Except I'm not sad for her, really—I'm sad that you had to do that. I'm sad that I put you in that position."

"You didn't," Snape said sharply.

"I did. I wanted to keep you from getting into a bad situation—"

"So you chose to get in one yourself. How very—how very _you,_" was all Snape could say.

"I really am sorry," Harry repeated.

"Well, it wasn't _all _a waste," Severus allowed. "Aside from my assassination of Bella, your friend Longbottom also managed to land himself a Death Eater—though he didn't kill this one, thank Merlin."

Harry goggled. "Really? _Neville _did?"

"You sound almost as surprised as he was by the news. I nearly awarded him House points, but decided not to risk sending him into cardiac arrest and let Professor McGonagall have the honour, instead."

"Who is it?" Harry demanded.

Snape nodded at one of the beds. "Look for yourself. Poor bastard's still got the body-bind on him—I've the feeling it's going to be the work of a demented genius to get it off."

Harry carefully got out of his bed and padded over to the figure's, peeling the bedclothes back enough to get a good look at the man's face. "It's _Pettigrew_!" he cried.

"Very good, Holmes," Snape retorted. Harry glanced at him. "I'm allowed to read campy Muggle literature too, you know. _Don't,_" he warned when Harry looked round for his wand. "I know what you're thinking, and I can't say I blame you, but killing a man in cold blood isn't the thing to do."

"But he already got away once!"

"If you want it done, I insist on being the one to do it."

Harry halted his frantic search for his wand. "What?"

"I won't let you dirty your hands. If you absolutely must see him die, then I'll do it."

Harry stared at him. The fight seemed to go out of his slender frame. "You know I don't want that."

"Then come back to bed." Snape opened his arms.

Harry shot the rat one last, lingering resentful look before sighing and turning away. "All right," he agreed, and clambered up beside Snape. He had questions he wanted answers to, and there were things that needed doing, but right now, Severus had his arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders, warm and snug, and that was all that really mattered.

OoOoOoOoO

"He's… he's waking up!"

"For heaven's sake, the poor man has been through enough. The last thing he needs is to see your daft cow-eyed expression of worry the moment he wakes up."

"Hey!" Harry objected, elbowing Severus in the ribs.

The Headmaster managed a smile. "Do my ears deceive me, or are those the dulcet tones of an angelic choir?"

"I told you if you didn't stop bickering I'd have you moved," Madam Pomfrey scolded. "I apologise if they've disturbed you, Headmaster."

"Not at all, Poppy. It's very reassuring to know that, however off its axis the world may be, no catastrophe can keep Harry Potter and Severus Snape from attempting to bite one another's heads off."

"You gave us quite a scare," Severus informed the man, after Madam Pomfrey had propped him up on another couple of pillows.

"I'm very sorry for that. One of my students was in grave danger, and needed my help immediately."

"You—d'you mean Ginny?" Harry blurted.

"Yes. I'm sorry I could not divulge the truth about Miss Weasley to either of you."

"She's all right," Harry replied, avoiding the issue. "But she nearly got both of all of us killed, and…" he swallowed, trailing off.

Albus smiled. "And you don't feel that my disappearance did her any good at all?"

"Er…"

"Tom knew, as I did, that you would risk anything to rescue me. I knew, as Tom did _not, _that your faith in your friends would be borne out."

"But it wasn't! She tried to _kill _me!"

The Headmaster shook his head. "Harry, if Ginny really was the heartless, foolish creature Tom thought she was, do you really think you'd have lived to tell the tale? You accepted the potion she made for you, didn't you?"

"Yes. And I _bled _because of it—I thought I was going to bleed to _death_!"

"But you didn't. You should have, but you're still very much alive. If I'm not mistaken, Miss Weasley had a long look at the ingredients of the potion and made a few last moment modifications."

"I left out the nettles."

The three men looked up. Ginny stood in the doorway, looking haggard and small. "I knew—I knew nettles couldn't be right. They said it was a love potion. They said all I had to do was give it to him—and he'd love me—and I'd tell him not to fight anymore—only—only I wasn't really going to tell him that, I swear…"

"Stupid girl—how could you fail to see the difference between a love potion and a poison?" Snape demanded.

She shrugged. "I didn't want to see. But the nettles… I remembered about the nettles, Professor. You said never to use more than a pinch. You said it didn't matter what we were brewing; a pinch should always suffice. You said nettles were toxic. I couldn't—I didn't put them in." She looked down. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I really thought that if I just had a chance—just a _chance_—"

"I understand," Harry replied. "But I don't reckon I could ever trust you again."

"I know."

"Do you still have the book?" Snape asked.

"Of potions? Yes. I don't think any of the other potions are harmful, though. They had me steal it long enough to put an extra recipe in—one they thought Harry would remember later when he needed to find someone…"

"Then you were the one who stole it from Remus!"

"Yes."

Harry blinked. "But the other potions were all right?"

"As far as I know," she replied with a shrug.

"We ought to burn the lot, just in case."

"Burning books is never a solution," Dumbledore chided Snape.

"Yeah… besides, you never know when they might contain something useful," Harry added, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh, lord. I take it disaster-prone Potter has another infallible plan?"

"Hey, sometimes I have good ideas," Harry protested. "Once in a while. I usually come out all right, anyhow."

"A more glowing endorsement of one's own abilities I've seldom heard," Snape replied dryly. "What outlandish idea has taken root in your head this time?"

Harry stared down at Pettigrew. "It's not outlandish. It's a little crazy, but I think it just might work." He turned to smile at Severus. "So long as I have a little help, anyway."

Severus groaned.


	24. The Most Mythical Creature of All

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-Four  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Harry's plan begins to take shape, but what happens when he needs something no one seems to have?

**DEDICATION:** I know it's rare for me to do this, but this chapter is dedicated to Spicysteweddemon, and the picture that inspired the snow scene http/ as well as Rory8 for nominating 'Someone to Understand Me' at multifaceted, where it won as a runner up. You're both the best!

There are only a couple of chapters left, guys! Hold on to your hats!

(P.S. I'm sorry for any reviews I've not responded to lately; I've been working loads of overtime and reading a lot and…no excuses. Fifty lashes with a wet noodle! So sorry! I'll try to do better, I promise! Also, stupid was not letting me download this for some reason.)

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Most Mythical Creature of All**

Severus limped slightly as he paced the hall outside the hospital wing, scowling. Ever since McGonagall, Tonks and Lupin had rescued them a couple of days prior, the Headmaster had been unconscious. Now that the man had finally come to and _stayed _to, as it were, he and Harry had booted everyone else out of the hospital wing, and Severus wasn't privy to the conversation inside, which naturally made him both apprehensive and prickly—or more so than usual, at any rate. A third year boy came to ask Madam Pomfrey to remove a supernatural splinter, which Snape extracted himself before terrifying the brat with a lecture on how he could now possibly suffer from wood rot in his fingertip, causing him to flee, whimpering, to the restroom to disinfect himself.

It was all very unsatisfying. Potter was much more gifted when it came to whimpering.

Finally, _finally _the door opened, and Snape hobbled in. "Enjoy our little tryst, did we?" he growled at Potter. Albus was asleep, his skin a disquieting greyish colour.

Harry grinned. "I can't believe you'd be worried that I could possibly be in here fooling around with the _Headmaster,_" he replied.

"I wasn't," Severus said shortly. "I simply dislike being left out as much as you do."

Harry ducked his head. "I'm sorry. I just had to make sure my idea would _work_," he added.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Well, Dumbledore thinks it's brilliant, so—"

"Keeping in mind this is the same man who thinks 'blubber' a fitting and proper word to include in a momentous start of term speech," Snape interrupted.

"Yeah, he's great, isn't he?" Harry replied with a charming smile. "Anyway, I had a good look at some of the potions in that book."

"_Why_?" Snape moaned in exasperation. "I've done everything short of shoving pages of the textbooks straight down your throat for the past several years, and you've never shown any interest in them before."

"That was before you told me not to," Harry informed him patiently. "I can't help it; I'm a teenager. We're pretty much wired that way."

"Good grief." Snape's leg was really beginning to twinge, so he made his way over to his bed, and Harry hopped up beside him, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. "Out with it, then. What's your cunning plan?"

"Well, one of the potions disables magical ability—just temporarily."

"That would be the Depletion Dram—and it's not the easiest brew of the bunch, to put it mildly."

"No, probably not. But if we could get Voldemort to take it, he'd be very vulnerable."

"How the bloody hell could you convince him to do so?"

"I wouldn't. You would."

Snape groaned again.

"Look, it's easy—all we'd have to do is brew some Polyjuice Potion to make you look like Pettigrew. You could get close enough. You're the _only_ one who could get close enough. He'd take it from you—I know he would! Plus, you're probably the only one in the whole country who could make it."

"Patent exaggeration. There are at least two others. Oh, wait—Munse died of diabolical diphtheria last winter. Never mind. Do you realize that to make this potion you need the blood of a young virgin—_willingly _given? With her full knowledge and understanding?" Snape demanded.

Harry blushed furiously. "So? We're in a school! There are plenty of kids young enough to—"

"Yes, and all of them are the souls of discretion, no doubt. Do you really suppose it would be safe to simply _pick _one?"

Harry's forehead wrinkled as he thought this over. "Wait a second—I know what to do. We just have to be sure ask the right person, that's all."

OoOoOoOoO

"I can't, Harry," Hermione said stiffly, grabbing her books from the table and marching away.

"But you _have _to, Hermione, _please_," Harry hissed, hurrying after her. "If you refuse, then we won't be able to—"

"I didn't say I _refused, _you absolute ignoramus!" she whispered furiously, rounding on him. "_I said I can't!_"

"Huh?" Harry blinked. "Oh. _Oh. _Whoa—wait—who—"

"Who do you imagine?" She flicked her hair over her shoulder, grinding her teeth. "Really, if they handed out an Oblivious Oaf of the Year award, you'd win every time, hands down."

"That's not very polite," Harry returned. She didn't answer, flouncing off to the dorm. "Great. _Now _what am I supposed to do?" He sighed, scuffing his shoe on the floor. "At least Ron ought to be happy he beat me at _something_," he added under his breath. And where was he supposed to find a virgin at this late a date?

OoOoOoOoO

"You _owe _me," Harry insisted fiercely. He'd thought of asking another member of the D.A., but after watching Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggle and make some rather disturbing regarding Firenze, Harry just wasn't certain _any _of them would be any help. Most of them had boyfriends, and _none _of them seemed to have any morals. Now that Harry was actually paying attention, he'd become quite convinced that the entire female population at Hogwarts was just ravenous for sex—or it might have been his paranoia. The whole situation had been giving him vexing dreams, that was certain.

"Shut up and go away!" Ginny responded, her face the same shade as her hair. She'd had a tracking spell put on her until Dumbledore was well enough to make a decision regarding her fate, and Harry had no trouble cornering her in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"You tried to _kill _me! If you'd only do this, it'd look a lot better for you. You can't spare a few drops of blood for a bloke you supposedly loved?"

"For one who could never love me back? Harry—it doesn't matter. I can't anyway. Snape—Snape made me take a Captive Concoction. It interferes with just about everything. He said I shouldn't even try making potions until I'd been off it for a month."

"Really?" It sounded like a load of bollocks to Harry—why wouldn't Snape have suggested giving _that _to Voldemort, if there was such a thing?—but Ginny obviously believed it, so he let it go. "Well, thanks for nothing."

She grabbed his arm. "I really am sorry, Harry. I can't help it that you're so wonderful. I just thought—I mean, he's so _old_. And _ugly_. And—and _mean, _Harry! I really thought…you'd be happier with me. I'd make you happy."

Harry shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I _am _happy. And even if I weren't, you wouldn't be able to change that. Snape's the only one who could make me happy. He—sort of holds that in his hands. Look, I've got to go. I do—still care about you. I hope you know that. Take care of yourself, would you?"

She nodded, trying to give him a brave smile, but it came out sort of tremulous, and her eyes were watery. "You too, Harry."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape pushed himself. And then he pushed himself harder. It was cold outside, and he could see his breath, but Madam Pomfrey had advised short walks round the grounds to strengthen the leg muscle that had been torn. It had only been a week since the injury, but between his healing potions and his determination, Severus was quickly mending.

As he rounded the castle wall, Snape spotted Harry, sitting on a stone bench with his chin resting on his hands, looking disheartened. Severus considered asking the boy to discuss his problems, but that would undoubtedly lead to…the boy discussing his problems. And really, it was bad enough to be back at his job and straining his thigh muscle—Severus really didn't cherish the thought of being whinged at.

So he decided to distract the brat, instead. He looked around for something useful, and quickly had an idea.

"_Ow! _WHO THREW THAT?" Harry roared.

Snape chuckled, ceasing when a snowball bounced of his protection charm. "Tsk, tsk, Mister Potter. You'll never get through _that _way."

Harry plastered an exceptionally fake smile on his face and straightened up, sauntering toward the Potions Master. "Gosh, I should have known that wouldn't work on you; you're _much _too clever for that."

"Mm-hmm," Snape replied, leaning down to allow Harry a kiss. One of his arms flashed out and grabbed Harry's wrist, stopping the boy's hand and its cargo of snow perilously close to Snape's collar. "And _that, _as well."

"Did you use Legilimency on me?" Harry demanded. "That's not fair!"

"I should hardly need Legilimency to play 'spot the asinine plan Potter's cooking up.' It's only written all over your face." Snape took a seat on the bench, pulling Harry into his lap. "What were you looking so morose about?"

Harry shrugged and wrinkled his nose. "Nothing much. It's just that Hermione isn't a virgin and she's angry at me for not expecting it, and Ginny won't let me have her blood."

"It's a very good thing I already know the preface to this conversation, or you'd be over my lap in an entirely different sort of context and not enjoying it so much."

"Don't bet on it!" Harry chirped with a mischievous smile.

"I must say I hope Miss Granger isn't so fecund as Mister Weasley's forebears."

"Fecund? Um, I think she's pretty clean, actually," Harry replied.

Snape rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Don't be obtuse."

"I can't help the way my head's shaped!"

"Do belt up, Potter. You're purposely annoying me, aren't you?"

"But… you make it so _easy_," Harry protested with a snicker.

"I'll keep that impertinent mouth of yours occupied," Snape warned with a growl, kissing him.

Harry happily threw his arms around Snape's neck, and one of his legs slipped to the outside of the Potions Master's, leaving him straddling the man. "I love how quick your tongue is," Harry said in a muffled voice.

"Mind the leg," Severus responded, kissing him hotly. There was nothing so sweet as the tender cavern of Harry's mouth, no feeling in the world that equalled the brilliance of Harry's fingers shyly slipping up the nape of his neck, no sensation as breathtaking as Harry's thighs spread to him, and Snape could go mad just from the very idea of the boy inching forward until—

"Good afternoon, Severus. Harry. I'm so pleased to see the two of you looking so fit. You seem to be recovering nicely." Remus Lupin stood above them with a half-disapproving, half-amused expression.

"Oh, ah…hi, Remus," Harry replied dolefully, getting back to his feet.

"I hate to interrupt your quality time, but this is the sort of scene that _you, _Snape, typically frown upon."

"You're wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This is the sort of scene I typically rain hellfire and detention down upon. But as it's _my _scene, I don't think we quite need the dramatics."

"Indeed. Aren't you lucky that I came upon you, rather than yourself?"

"I suppose you're going to make us leave?" Harry asked.

"No. You're quite welcome to sit back down," Remus told him graciously.

"Really?"

"Yes. I'll just be sitting between you." He promptly seated himself beside Snape, who was disgruntled by this turn of events. It was, after all, a smallish bench. "I'll just read," the man continued, taking out a book. "You can go about your business," he added.

"Well, all right," Harry replied with an impish look. "We were just discussing the shocking amount of underage sexual intercourse that goes on round here."

Remus' ears turned pink, but he didn't say anything. Snape tried not to smile. Harry plopped down on the other side of the werewolf, but leaned around him to continue his conversation with Snape. "So anyway, Ginny's useless."

"Good," Snape said shortly. "I didn't trust the little nightmare anyway." He didn't add that he'd made certain the girl wouldn't be involved in Potter's latest potions brainwave by convincing her she wasn't capable. Her participation would only aggravate the situation.

"Well, I'm put off that—er—certain people are having sex and I'm not. It's utterly, unmistakably unfair."

"I promise we'll remedy it someday," Snape told him with a gleam in his eye. "Preferably the moment you graduate. I plan on dragging you straight down to the dungeons and—"

Remus cleared his throat meaningfully. His eyes were still on his book, but he hadn't turned a page.

"Although, I don't promise I can wait until we get to the dungeons."

"I _know _I won't be able to," Harry responded with a grin, leaning over to clasp Snape's hand.

"Please introduce a new topic of conversation," Remus dictated primly.

Harry laughed. "But it's so _cute _when you blush and squirm!" he kidded. "Don't you think so, Snape?"

"Riveting," Snape replied dryly.

"I'd do him in a minute," Harry told the Potions Master conversationally, winking.

"I'm sure it would take more than a _minute_," Snape retorted. "Though knowing you—and your lack of experience—it might take a lot less."

"Could you _get _any worse!" Remus finally demanded, exasperated.

"Is that a challenge?" Harry laughed at the peeved look on the man's face, but then fell silent, rolling a ball of snow into a perfect sphere. "I just don't know where we're going to find a virgin for that potion," he said with a sigh.

Remus turned immediately to Snape. "What the sod does that mean? You'd better not have—have—_deflowered _him, Severus, or it will go very hard for you!"

"That's _right_," Snape replied, eyes unfocussed, not the least bit cowed. "Harry, you _are _a virgin."

Harry blinked, then smiled a little. "Gee, I knew I was saving it for _something_." Snape bit his lip, holding back his amusement. "You always think of everything," the boy added with admiration.

"Yes. Unless we have to factor _you _in," Snape responded. "You tend to throw everything off."

Harry beamed. "That's why you love me."

"Trust me, that isn't it."

Harry turned his back and muttered a couple of spells.

"What exactly are you doing?" Snape asked. Remus kept glancing over at the boy warily. Harry leapt to his feet and ran to Snape, who also rose, ignoring the sour look on the werewolf's face.

"Look what I made!" Harry held up a little snowman… or a little snapeman, judging by his long, crooked carrot nose.

Even Remus had to laugh. "It's… it's quite adorable, Harry," he said.

"Yeah. Cute as the original," Harry said, looking up at Severus with love shining from his eyes.

Snape smiled softly. "But still not as cute as you," he murmured, tracing Harry's jaw with a fingertip. He leaned over to kiss the boy's nose, but paused with a querying look at Remus. "Am I begging to be hexed?"

The werewolf sighed. "I suppose I'll let it go… so long as I can see daylight between you," he added severely.

It was awkward kissing in front of an audience, but somehow it warmed Snape right down to his toes. He rather thought it nice to be able to show Harry off, and hoped he'd be able to do it again in the future. "All right," he said after a moment. "Let's go see what we need for this wild idea of yours to work."

OoOoOoOoO

"Will this really work?"

"You're the idiot that thought it up," Snape replied, sounding disgruntled. Remus trailed behind, looking determined.

"Harry is a very bright young lad. I'm sure we should take his thoughts into consideration," the werewolf said.

"Hey, thanks!" Harry responded, pleased to have an ally.

"Don't mention it. Or anything more about your impending lack of virginity, if you would be so kind."

They traipsed down to Snape's labs, where the man set out his ingredients. "Lupin, get the book. It's locked in my liquor cabinet."

Remus came back a few minutes later, plus book, sans shirt cuff. What was left of his sleeve was ragged and singed. "You might have warned me you put a Conflagration Curse on the cabinet," he said.

Harry was sitting atop the counter, swinging his legs merrily.

"What would be the amusement value in that?" the Potions Master replied, cracking his knuckles. "Right. Now. Let's get to work." Harry and Remus waiting in tense silence as Snape read the instructions thoroughly, occasionally barking out a command that they retrieve an ingredient from the storeroom. Eventually, he was ready to start. "There is one thing that really bothers me about this," he said.

"Just one?" Remus queried. He looked vaguely ill, but then he generally looked like something run down by a lorry.

"Why on earth would the—_Voldemort—_accept Pettigrew back. I'll need a good cover, and that little rat doesn't provide one."

"But he _will_," Harry insisted. "Dumbledore and I talked about it."

"_Professor _Dumbledore," Snape and Lupin responded in chorus.

Harry merely rolled his eyes. "We're going to give you some black eyes and boils and stuff—really make it look like you've been put through the ringer. You'll say we tried to squeeze information out of you, but at an opportune moment, you transformed and got loose. He's done it before," Harry pointed out.

"As many faults as Albus has, I don't see him manhandling anyone," Severus said doubtfully.

"I worried about that too, but Dumbledore made a good point. He said Voldemort _would _believe that—because Voldemort expects Dumbledore to treat his followers the same way Voldemort would treat ours."

"Ah. And the next step? What fabulous feat is intended after Voldemort's taken the potion?"

"I… can't tell you that, yet. I'm really sorry, love! But if you get caught—well, Dumbledore—sorry, _Professor _Dumbledore—says we need to keep it close to our chests."

"I see. Well, one of you needs to retrieve a bit of Pettigrew's—biological makeup. Each potion takes close to a month, so at least they'll be ready in unison."

Remus gave him a weak smile as Harry ran off to cut bits off the rat. "And we only have a good four weeks to worry ourselves sick," he added with false joviality.

"Indeed."


	25. Almost Goodbye

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-Five  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: As the time draws near for Severus to approach the Dark Lord, he and Harry spend some quality time together and try to prepare themselves for the worst.

One more juicy chapter to go, so that makes this:

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Almost Goodbye **

"We need another Chaser," Ron told Harry grimly as they walked to class after breakfast.

"What? Why?"

"Because Ginny told me last night that she's resigning."

"And you _let _her!" Harry squawked, aggrieved. "How the hell are we supposed to win the cup if we have to start training a new player this late in the season?"

Ron's face was an expressionless mask. "Of _course _I let her," he replied in a low, seething sort of voice. Harry had never heard him sound so angry. "After what she did, she ought to resign from being a _Weasley_, let alone Quidditch. If she wants to punish herself, I'm fine with that. As far as I'm concerned, she couldn't be too harsh."

"You don't mean that," Hermione replied gently. "Whatever happens, she's still your sister."

"I _know _she is. That's part of the problem! I'm downright _ashamed _of her! Not only did she nearly end the wizarding world as we know it, she almost killed one of my best friends! And somehow she thought it would make him _like _her!" he added in baffled tone.

"Has Dumbledore told your mother?" Hermione asked.

"No, and neither will I! I can't even imagine the scene it'll provoke, but I'd rather have enough warning beforehand to get on another continent. I think he's waiting for Harry to save the day."

"Well, he can keep _on _waiting, because _I'm _not daft enough to be the one to break the news to her," Harry replied fervently.

Ron gave a grunt of laughter. "That's not what I meant, but never mind. I don't want to talk about my family anymore, all right? Harry's my family. I should have listened to him in the first place."

Harry's cheeks pinked. "I'm touched and all, but you don't need to choose between us," he said. "And I really hope this doesn't mess things up. I mean, will your mom be angry with me?"

Ron shrugged uncomfortably. "I doubt it, but who knows? She's not always the most rational person on the planet. Anyhow, back to what I was saying about Quidditch: you need to hold tryouts, Harry."

"Me?"

"You're the team captain," Ron pointed out.

Harry stopped dead in the hall and exchanged a quick glance with Hermione. "You know, I don't even care if we win the cup this year—" Ron's eyes bugged out at this, but Harry spoke over his protests—"And I reckon I really have too much on my plate at the moment. I have a Dark Lord to kill, remember?"

Ron scowled in thought. "I'm not saying that's not important, it's just that I don't want to lose the—"

"Ron! You're turning into Oliver Wood all over again," Hermione told him with a slight laugh.

He unbent enough to smile at her. "It's just that the rest of Gryffindor is counting on us. It's a great distraction from Voldemort trying to take over."

"Which is what it does for Harry, too," Hermione pointed out dryly.

"Ron, you care about it. You really do—a lot more than I do. I want to win, but just now, it's not my top priority."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'll still be your Seeker, but I'm stepping down as Captain. It's time you took over and got us all back on track. We need someone competent to do that—someone who has his head in the game. That's not me."

"Really?" Ron sounded uncertain, and just a bit hopeful.

Harry gave him a broad smile. "Absolutely. You hold the tryout, and I'll even do my best to help you choose someone. But it's going to have to be your decision—I don't need the pressure anymore."

Ron grinned back. "Right. Right. I reckon a few of the third years might have what it takes…"

OoOoOoOoO

"I am firmly convinced that you could slay villages with that sexy, sexy sneer," Harry purred.

Snape attempted valiantly to _keep _the look on his face a sneer and wasn't entirely successful. "I'm sure that I could raze entire cities with this expression, though I highly doubt it would be in the context you're suggesting," he replied dryly.

"Sure it would. Death by orgasm, all over the place. It's the most powerful secret weapon of all," Harry told him earnestly, squeezing onto his lap.

Snape hid his amusement in his glass of Chardonnay. Potter was only drinking Butterbeer, but he'd had several of them. "Well, I'll be sure to wield it responsibly, then. I'll try it on the—on Voldemort the next opportunity, as well. You'll have to give me a back up plan in case striding up to him and saying boldy, 'Take _that_,' fails as utterly as I believe it will."

Harry snickered. "Oh, it'll work, trust me. Particularly if you keep talking."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that 'Take _that_,' is too short. Your voice is incredibly sensual, so you'll need to really work it."

"Hmm. How about, 'I've _come_ for you,'" Snape suggested in a low growl.

Harry shivered in his lap. "Oooo, I like that, but don't waste that one on him. That one's mine."

"Spoiled brat. Then what about, 'If you wish to live, get down on your knees and _beg_."

Harry twisted, giving him a rather myopic sort of soppy look. "You're only doing this to torture me, and I love you for it." Snape rolled his eyes. "I think it'd work, though. You sneer and say that, maybe order him to take detention—it'll be cardiac arrest all the way, honey. Then all you have to do is come back to a hero's welcome, and roses and girls falling at your feet, all of them screaming 'I love you!' You'd be the Beatles all over again."

Snape didn't know what the Beatles were, nor, after his fourth glass of wine, did he care. "I've often imagined the unwashed hoards screaming my name. I just always pictured it in more of a torches and pitchforks kind of way," he remarked. Harry squirmed, vicious little tempter that he was.

"I'd like to tie you up and make you read the dictionary from cover to cover—and force you to do the dirty words twice," the boy said wistfully.

"Mmm. Well, now we'll have plans for our first 'real' date, won't we?"

Harry laughed, but it was tinged with rue. "Come on, don't you want to make a man out of me? We only have a couple of days left before you have to deal with him, you know."

Snape grunted. "Aren't you a sunny little optimist tonight? Where's that Gryffindor spirit? Have I managed to chase it off? Shall I give a couple of hearty hallelujahs?"

"Stop that," Harry laughed, swatting at the man. "You want cheer? I'll give you cheer… 'cept I must have misplaced my pom-poms. Here, up you get."

Snape was glad the boy was coming out of his doldrums, but not eager to embrace any new dunderheaded plan. "What? Why?"

"Come _on_," Harry said insistently, tugging on his arm. "Conjure us some music, like you did that night you tried to seduce me."

"I didn't try to seduce you. I tried to intimidate you. It's truly disturbing that you can't tell the difference. And why do we need music?"

"Dance with me," Harry said. If his eyes hadn't shone so brightly, Snape might have been able to answer right away, instead of pausing long enough to give the brat a crack to lever open. "Please?"

"I don't dance."

"Sure you do. Everyone dances. Maybe _badly, _in some cases, but still…"

"Potter, I do _not dance. _I think I would know if I danced. It's not the sort of thing one does unconsciously."

"You've got two choices, big man; you can dance with me, or you can bugger me senseless. Either would be acceptable."

"You're already senseless," the man replied, stalling. Harry held out his hand to Severus, who accepted it with a sigh. "How is it that you always get me into these things?"

"Oh, yes, a bit of a spin round the floor—fate worse than _death, _that."

"Stop being cute," Snape told him, allowing Harry to rather clumsily lead them in a circle.

"I can't help it," the boy replied cheekily. "I was born that way."

"Insufferable," Severus grunted. "You're an awful dancer, you do realize that?"

Harry merely beamed at him in an inebriated way. "But I make up for it by being great in bed!"

Snape guffawed. "And you would know that _how_?" he asked.

Harry giggled a little, leaning forward to rest his head on Severus' shoulder. "Stands to reason. I mean, when I've got a great partner like you, how could I be anything _but _fabulous?"

Severus tenderly scooped Harry's chin up and kissed him softly. "You are the most perplexingly endearing thing, you know. On anyone else it would be disgusting. Somehow you pull it off."

Harry wound his arms round the man's neck, pulling him down into another kiss. "I know. You love me." He nuzzled close to Severus, flicking his tongue against the man's ear.

"Only because you've made it impossible for me not to love you," Severus murmured, threading his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry made a soft noise at this, and Snape smiled. Harry was very difficult to resist. He guided the boy back to the chair, pulling Harry down into his arms. Harry didn't even make a pretence of objecting. Having a lapful of warm and cuddly Potter was certainly having an effect on Snape's body, despite his resolutions.

Harry nipped his neck, his fingers, running lightly up and down the back of Severus' neck. "You want me, don't you?" he queried.

"Sometimes I wonder which one of us is more evil," Snape told him in a pained voice. He pushed Harry back so he could kiss his way up and down that slender throat, enjoying the happy little noises Harry made as he did so. He manoeuvred the boy into a reclining position, tongue dancing over Harry's Adam's apple as Severus' fingers plucked at buttons and zips.

And then Snape realized the rascal had fallen asleep on him, rather literally.

"You're a rotten little tease, you realize that?" he asked quietly. Not that he really blamed the boy; he'd been taking on a lot lately, and several glasses of Butterbeer undoubtedly added to his drowsiness. As it was, all Snape could do was smile helplessly at the youth sprawled across his lap, his lips parted, his glasses askew. "Winsome scamp that you are," he grumbled, carrying the boy off to bed. Hopefully, they'd have plenty of other nights like this one.

Snape just hoped no one else ever discovered what he had—that some perverted part of him actually _enjoyed _cuddling. It would certainly be the sort of thing that could ruin his reputation.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry rolled over in bed the next morning to find Snape hovering above him, a tray in his hands. "Sit up, Mister Potter. Your breakfast is ready."

Harry turned green and bolted for the bathroom, ignoring the annoyed look on the man's face. When he got back, he gazed queasily at the sausage and ham that Severus was considerately chopping into bite-sized bits for him. "I'm never drinking again," Harry said resolutely.

"And hundreds of bottles of the cheapest rotgut sigh in relief."

"Thank goodness it's Saturday."

"Mm. To be followed by Bloody Sunday," Severus commented.

"Stop being such a pessimist," Harry reprimanded, kissing him on the nose. Severus kissed Harry's nose in response. This was followed by Harry attempting to kiss Severus on the mouth, and Severus shoving him away and demanded that he clean his teeth after being sick.

"And here, not that you deserve it," he added, handing Harry a small bottle. "This will take care of the hangover."

"Wow. I've got the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world," Harry teased.

"Yes. One who will expect nightly fellatio once you're of age, mind you."

Harry laughed. "What are your plans for today?"

"I've got a few projects that need wrapping up, as well as…some mental preparation of sorts."

"It's a good plan," Harry assured him. "Everything will be fine. If it's not, I'll be the first to admit it, and apologize."

"Ah, I'm sure whatever bits of my corpse you can locate will be happy to hear it."

Harry gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he buttoned his shirt. "All right, oh hero of mine. I've got a few things of my own to wrap up, so I'll see you at dinner."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry had to search a while before he found Blaise and Colin playing chess in the library. When Colin looked up to say an enthusiastic hello to Harry, Blaise's hand snaked out, rearranging a couple of crucial pieces. Before Harry could say anything, Colin's head whipped around.

"Hey!" he laughed. "Stop cheating!"

"I wasn't cheating," Blaise insisted. "I was just… lateral thinking."

"More like horizontal thinking, in your case," Harry jibed. Zabini's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "I'm sorry. I was only joking," he assured him.

A sceptical eyebrow shot up. "Excuse me? I think I'm hearing things. Did you just _apologise _to me? Who are you and what have you done to Harry Potter?"

"Still me—for the moment, anyway," Harry said. "Look, I know we've got a certain history, but you and Colin seem really good for each other." The mousy boy flushed bright red at that, but he was still smiling. "You've been together awhile now, haven't you? How did I miss that?"

Blaise smiled wryly, but even his cheeks were lightly tinged with pink. "Potter the Preoccupied? I can't imagine. Frankly I'm shocked that you ever managed to figure it out."

Harry smiled at him easily. "That night I took the Bloodhound Brew? You smelled like each other," he said. "It _did _take me rather a long time to realize it, though. And then even longer to understand how you could get your scents all over each other," he admitted.

Now Blaise was _really _pink. Harry didn't think he'd _ever _seen him so discomfited. It looked good on him—a lot more _real _than Blaise's usual campy coolness.

"I really like him," Colin said suddenly, his voice shy.

Harry gave him a smile, as well. "I'm glad," he said. They looked good together. Happy. Harry knew he'd have to get out of there soon, before he started to get choked up. "I just wanted to thank both of you for all you've done. And I wanted to apologise to Blaise for suspecting he was a Death Eater."

"You couldn't have known," Blaise responded dismissively. "I just have that darkly sexy aura, that's all."

Harry laughed. "Take care of each other, you two," he said. They exchanged a confused look as Harry walked away, but were soon wrapped up in each other again, and didn't try to stop him. Harry was glad. Goodbyes were difficult.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hey! How was your day?"

Severus looked up from chopping onions, giving Harry a smile. The headmaster had allowed him to skip the usual dinner in the Great Hall, and had suggested Harry join him, ostensibly as a distraction from the man's worries. Severus had to admit the monkey was good for _that, _as long as he wasn't adding to them.

"Good. Meditated a lot. Yours?"

"Oh? Meditation, eh? Any trances? Bending yourself into odd shapes while doing breathing exercises and training yourself to be one with your surroundings, finding wholeness within and all that?"

"Hmm? No, mostly I knocked together a batch of Blood Replenishing Potions. Poppy needed them, and they're always calming to brew."

Harry laughed. "Pity. Would've thought the other rather hot, in its own way."

Severus put the chicken on. It was a lovely evening, golden and cool, with just a hint of spring in the air. Having Harry come to visit made everything that much better. As he poured the wine into the pan, Severus reflected that he could spend a thousand weekends like this; chopping vegetables, no one twinkling at him over dinner, and Harry. What a pity it would all end soon, one way or another. If he were discovered, he wouldn't live to regret it, but Severus knew that even if the Dark Lord were defeated, he could hold no illusions that Harry would want to stay with him forever.

"Put some music on, would you?" he suggested. Harry did so, picking something happy and Italian sounding. It made for a nice background, and he offered the boy a smile. "Excellent choice."

A dimple showed briefly in Harry's cheek. "I've got good influences," he replied. He came to stand behind the man at the small stove, wrapping his arms around Severus' middle and resting his head on the man's back. They stood there for a long while, enjoying the scents and the music and the company. Harry talked about his day, and his conversations with various people, including Ron, and how he'd urged him to forgive Ginny, and Hermione, to apologise for his unintended remarks concerning her virginity. Snape listened to it all without judgment.

"Here, stir the food a moment," Snape eventually said, pulling free. "I'll be right back." He went and pulled something out of his dresser drawer, glancing in the mirror a moment. He wondered what a gorgeous creature like Harry was doing in his kitchen. Shaking his head, he snatched up a comb and ran it quickly through his hair.

"Oooooh, aren't we getting swanky tonight?" his mirror said. "Must have a scorching-hot date!"

"Oh, shut up," he told it tiredly. When he got back to the kitchen, Harry was humming happily and adding rather more wine than the recipe called for. Severus sneaked up behind the boy, pulling him close and nipping him on the nape of the neck.

Harry gave a yip and tussled with him for a moment. "You scared me half to death," he complained. "How would you like it if I surprised you that way?"

"You'd never manage it," Snape said confidently. He kissed the back of Harry's neck again, feeling the youth go limp in his arms.

"That's nice," Harry breathed. "Do that again." Severus did. Harry moaned slightly.

Severus pulled away before he could lose control. "Here," he said, settling a cloak around the boy's shoulders.

Harry glanced down in surprise. "My dad's old cloak? But why? I want _you_ to have it."

"I don't need it," Severus said quellingly. Harry kissed him, then went and set the cloak on the kitchen table beside his schoolbooks and a few other things. Snape frowned at them. "I don't mind the books, but what is that nasty metal tube thing doing on my clean tabletop? Put it away."

Harry grinned. "Yes, sir. It's just a project the headmaster and I are working on," he said, wrapping it in the Invisibility Cloak and setting it aside. Then he conscientiously cast Scourgify on the table. "There. Good as new."

They ate amidst a companionable discussion about how Dennis Creevey had joined the Quidditch team, and Severus pointed out, with relish, that Slytherin now had a good chance at the cup, for the first time since Harry'd come to Hogwarts.

"Don't count me out yet," Harry replied with a wink and a smile. "Never say die, is my motto."

Severus was amused. "I approve of your motto. If only you supported it with cautious and intelligent behaviour."

Harry laughed. "Where's the fun in _that_?"

Eventually, they could no longer deny that the sun had long since set, and Remus would be there soon to check in and make sure Harry returned to Gryffindor tower. Severus looked down at his clean plate, a lump forming in his throat. "You will be good tomorrow?" he asked anxiously. "Promise me."

Harry gave him a sad smile, then came around the table to give him a kiss goodnight. "I'll be better than good," he swore. "I'll be _excellent._"


	26. Everyone Loves a Good Climax

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty-Six  
**RATING**: PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: Severus slips Voldemort the potion, Harry reveals himself, and Lucius' act of bravery astounds everyone.

**Everyone Loves a Good Climax**

"I love you." Snape's face was so frightened and pinched that even his lips were white, and Harry felt sorry for him.

"I love you more," he replied, going up on his tiptoes to thoroughly kiss the man. Even Remus didn't object this time. "Be careful, would you?"

"I'm always careful. _You're _the one that enjoys toying with death, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd nearly forgot," Harry told him. "You'll be okay, though. I promise."

Snape shook his head, muttering something about unrelenting Gryffindor confidence and blinding idiocy. Harry merely smiled at him. The man kissed him again. "I love you." He kissed Harry again, longer, more tenderly, more _thoroughly._

"We could do with a _little_ less tongue," Remus suggested plaintively.

Severus ignored him. "I would like some privacy," he said, looking beseechingly at the headmaster.

"Well, draw one of the curtains, then," the man said, gesturing. They'd all gathered round _his _hospital bed, after all, and he certainly wasn't going anywhere.

Severus did so with a sigh and a last kiss for Harry. He gulped the revolting potion, his stomach heaving as he struggled to keep it down, and then the fiery pain shot through his body. He felt as though he were melting, not just his skin, but his entire body slipping toward the floor as he occupied Pettigrew's much shorter frame. His oily hair receded, and his skin sagged unpleasantly. He sighed. "Well, that was just a picnic in the park. I fervently look forward to the next step."

He stepped out from behind the curtain, and Harry gave him a weak smile. "Looking good…er…or at least authentic, which is the whole point."

"Thank you," he replied flatly. "Please don't kiss me in this form. I already detest the feeling of my own skin, and envisioning you anywhere near this body makes my skin crawl."

Harry tried to laugh. "I understand."

"Are we ready to go?"

Snape turned, scowling. "Ah, Malfoy. The man who turned anaemia into an art form. Aren't we the eager beaver?"

"I've been working on the Dark Lord for a solid month now, insisting that I could help Pettigrew get loose, and convincing him that the rat had discovered some very useful new potion. You could, at the very least, simulate gratitude."

"Oh, yes. Your role is _so _much more demanding than _mine_," Severus snapped.

"Please, let's not fight," Harry said, standing between them. "We're all on the same side here."

"Ah, but once we leave grounds we may _not _be," Severus informed him. "Which is what I fear."

"Enough," Albus interrupted. "You ought to be going. Good luck and God speed, Severus. Our hopes and thoughts go with you."

Snape managed to nod at this, although his throat had closed up.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "Before you know it, we'll be back in your bed having wild monkey sex. You can bank on it."

Severus smiled as Remus sighed. "I just want you to know that, _apart_ from the wild monkey sex, I really do respect you," the werewolf said. "Good luck."

"This is all very touching, but—"

"And thank you for your efforts as well, Lucius," Remus said firmly.

"Well. See you all after," Snape said. He turned and attempted to stride purposefully out, but his legs were shorter than he was used to, and his robes just didn't billow and snap around him in the same comforting way. It was a bit depressing, really.

"If I might have a word with Lucius," the headmaster said.

"He can catch up," Snape replied over his shoulder. It was time to face his destiny.

OoOoOoOoO

"Took you long enough," Severus growled when Lucius finally caught up with him.

"Oh! Oh, yes. I'm sorry," Lucius replied in an off-balance sort of way.

"You needn't bother being sarcastic at me. You've only done it for going on twenty years now. You might want to try a new gimmick."

"Er…I beg your pardon?"

"The whole blond, barbed and bigoted persona you have going on. It gets old."

"Well. Glad to see you're happy to have my company," the man muttered. "But I forgive you, as you're obviously only acting this way because of nerves."

"You really are the most hubristic man I've ever met," Severus informed his comrade.

"…Thank you?" Lucius responded distractedly.

"Actually, I was _complaining, _not praising your insufferable snobbery, but take it as you like."

"Could we walk a bit slower? You know those legs weren't meant to go that quickly. You're going to damage them if you keep on like that."

"Just keep up, would you?"

Lucius, even with his rather longer strides, struggled. Finally they reached the edge of Hogwarts' grounds, where they could Apparate in relative ease. Lucius offered the man a tentative smile. "Here's hoping, eh?"

"Oh, be quiet. Where are we going?"

"Malfoy Manor. I arranged to have him stay there. He likes the comfort, and no one would dare raid the place."

"As I recall, Arthur Weasley raided your house several times, although he didn't manage to find anything incriminating."

Lucius blinked. "That's right! He did. Hmm. Maybe not such a great place to hide him, after all. Well, makes no difference now. Let's go, shall we?"

Severus gave him a strange look. "Very well, Malfoy. I'll see you on the other side."

Lucius waited until after the man had gone to give his voluminous robes a quick poke. "Stop doing that, you jackass!" he hissed.

The robes rustled, and Harry's head popped out from beneath them and gave him a look of exaggerated innocence. "Who, me?"

"What the hell are you playing at, tickling me like that? Do you have any idea how distracting that is? Do you want to get us _killed_?"

Harry gave him a wicked grin. "Serves you right," he replied. "And anyway, I was only having a bit of fun. I'll stop once we're there. There's no risk _now_, is there?"

"Well, _Severus _could have figured something out! That would have ruined everything! Is that what you want?"

"No," Harry replied sullenly. "I was only trying to lighten the mood."

Lucius sighed heavily. "Try to focus, would you? You're about to get your moment in the sun, and you ought to take it with a bit more…a bit more…gravitas?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "All right, all right. Didn't realize you had such a one-track mind."

"I didn't realize _you _were such an irresponsible twit!"

Harry gave the man another poke in the ribs. "You'll be sorry when I'm gone."

Lucius sneered. "Don't try the teenaged angst on _me_, boy. I'm not falling for it."

They Apparated with a loud crack.

OoOoOoOoO

Malfoy Manor was dim and cold. It suited Voldemort, Severus felt. He noticed that several windows were wide open, and an icy mixture of sleet and rain was pounding down outside. The curtains were dark from being drenched, alternating between slapping wetly against the walls and flapping wildly about, thrashing in the wind.

The hair on the back of Severus' neck stood up.

It was too empty. Too open. Too silent. Something was off.

He shivered, unconsciously pulling his cloak more tightly about his shoulders. "Mm…Master?" he croaked. His voice faltered; it simply couldn't carry through the winding corridors and oppressive atmosphere. He swallowed and cast Sonorous. "Master?" he said with a bit more aplomb.

"This way," a voice responded. It was unquestionably the Dark Lord's. It was too cold and hollow—like the slow opening of a sepulchre—to have belonged to anyone else. Severus followed it cautiously, emerging in the Manor's grand ballroom.

It was shadowy and still, although Snape could just make out a darker shadow shifting in a chair at one end of the room. He bowed, keeping his face to the floor, just in case. Snape opened his mouth expecting something to come out like, "Can't you turn on some blasted lights? Even Muggles can manage that!" but instead forced himself to say, "Lucius helped me escape, Master, and although I know you're angry with me—and you have every right to be—I've obtained something very valuable for you!"

"Have you?" Voldemort's chilly voice inquired. "Come forward."

Severus did so, crawling. He only had to make it through the next few hours, he reminded himself. He only had to do this for a little while. If he could only get the Dark Lord to drink the potion, it would be worth everything. "I know I've displeased you," he began, but before he could continue, unbearable pain engulfed him.

"Yes, you have. You let yourself be captured. You _failed _me," Voldemort told him almost conversationally, as if they were having a nice chat about the weather, and not Snape's impending death. "Really, Pettigrew, you're too incompetent to bother with. _Crucio!_"

Severus' mind screamed out in fear, trying to put together an argument, an excuse, anything that might convince the man to let him live, but the searing pain washed over him like a wave, ripping through his body and scattering his thoughts before he could gather them. He howled in anguish.

"Master! Stop!" another voice called out, and there was a blessed moment of respite from the agony. "You—you'll break the vial," Lucius Malfoy said, sounding shaken.

The Dark Lord turned glistening red eyes on Malfoy. "Indeed. You've spoken very highly of this potion," he said sceptically. "Is it really enough to buy Pettigrew another opportunity to prove his worth?"

Sweat beaded on Severus' forehead, running down his face, as he gazed up at Lucius, who swallowed. He appeared to be struggling to think things through. "I—could hardly care less about Pettigrew," he eventually said with calculated nonchalance. "But I should hate to see the precious potion wasted."

"Indeed."

"Yes, Master," Severus jumped in, his throat dry and scratchy from screaming. "I filched it from Snape's stores. He developed it for Dumbledore."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Why hasn't Dumbledore used it?"

Severus licked his lips. "Because it takes a month to ready," he replied, meeting the man's eyes. Let him glean the truth from _that _statement. "That was why I was forced to wait so long before attempting my escape."

Now the Dark Lord was beginning to look intrigued—half-convinced, even. "What was it meant to do? Why did he have it made?"

Severus managed to get to his knees, holding out the potion. "It was to make all his desires come true," he answered slowly. "It was fashioned to make him the most powerful wizard in the world."

Voldemort took no further convincing. Severus didn't know if his avarice simply outweighed his paranoia, or if the man had seen the sincerity in Snape's eyes, but he sent Nagini forward to snap the bottle from Severus' hands, then slither back to drop it in his lap.

Lucius and Severus held their breath.

The Dark Lord uncorked the vial, held the crystalline, green liquid to his lips, and drank it down in one swift gulp.

Severus resisted a wild urge to laugh. It was done. It was done. So long as someone made a move within the next day, they had a chance. He'd bought them a _chance. _It was more than he'd ever really believed he could do.

"All right, Voldemort. Are you ready to fight?" a cocky voice inquired. Severus looked up in horror to see Harry emerge from a corner of the room, taking a duelling stance, his chin held high.

"How—what are you—?" he broke off, sick to his stomach.

"The Invisibility Cloak," Harry replied shortly. "And I should think it's obvious. I've come to do my bit. I've come to save the world."

"You little _idiot_!" Snape burst out, but as he lurched to his feet, a blast of light shot past him at the boy. Harry dropped and rolled.

"I'll handle him, Peter," the Dark Lord said coolly, striding forward.

"_Avada—_" Snape began, but Nagini shot out of the shadow, sinking her fangs into his arm, and he moaned in pain, dropping his wand. He fell to his knees, cradling his arm.

Potter shot a curse at Voldemort as Lucius drove the snake back, helping Severus back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Have you gone mad? Help Potter, damn you!"

"Right, right," Lucius said hastily, but as he turned, there was a sizzle and flare of light, and sudden laughter. "Oh, _no_," Lucius breathed in horror. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

There was a long moment of stillness, and then the Dark Lord raised his hands in the air triumphantly. Severus fell to his knees again.

Voldemort stood laughing wildly, looking down on a prone and very bloody Harry Potter. "What have you done?" Severus murmured. Without thought of the consequences, he crawled to the dying boy, pulling his head up to cradle it in his lap. "Oh, Harry, what have you done? It was supposed to be me. Never you. You were supposed to live forever."

Harry tried to smile at him. "I will, in a way. You're sure as _hell _never going to forget me now," he said weakly. "And I always _knew _you loved me. Everyone loves me."

"I really do," Severus said sadly.

"Pettigrew! Get away from him!" the Dark Lord snarled, reaching for his wand.

There was a loud, unexpected noise, a bang like Severus had never heard before. He looked up to see Voldemort staring at him, his eyes wide. The man opened his mouth and a trickle of blood ran out. "I…you…_traitor_," he gurgled. He looked down at his chest, where blood was quickly spreading across his robes.

Lucius stood behind him, holding the same odd Muggle metal tube thing that Harry'd said was his and Dumbledore's project. Voldemort crumpled. "I…I think he's dead," Lucius remarked, sounding frightened. "I think I _killed _him, Severus."

"Good fucking riddance," Snape replied bitterly.

Harry smiled. "Draco is avenged."

Severus' brow wrinkled in confusion. "Yes, and everyone else. Like your parents," he said. "And the Diggory boy. And your godfather."

"Say," Harry said, struggling to speak. "You know, you and Lucius Malfoy would make a smouldering hot couple. He's—really—handsome. I know you still have feelings for him. You used to get into all sorts of trouble together—he told me."

"I don't have any _feelings _for him outside of _revulsion_!" Severus squawked, aghast. "And don't you go trying to set me up on your death bed! That's disgusting!"

Harry lifted one corner of his lip in a sneer-like smile. "Well, it was worth a try. But mind you what an incredible hero he was to have killed the Dark Lord. We'll not…see his likes again. You should…think about forgiving him."

Severus shook his head helplessly. "You're so selfless," he murmured. "After all this time, you still go on showing me how to be a better man."

Harry smiled again, closing his eyes. "Why Severus, that's the…nicest…thing you've…ever…said…to…me…"

"Harry? _Harry_?" Severus was shivering violently now. He'd wanted so much to be the one to go first. He was older, damn it, it was his _right. _It was the natural _order _of things. Leave it to Potter to mess up the natural order of things. "Why? It shouldn't have been…you weren't supposed to leave me…not like this. I'd have given you up to another man. I'd have given you up to another woman, or a career. But this…oh, God. I love you so much." He stroked Harry's chin with his thumb, leaning down to softly kiss the cooling lips.

"Hey! Wait! _Hey_!" Lucius yanked him back. "Don't!" Malfoy protested.

"I don't care that he's dead," Severus spat. "I'm perfectly willing to join him, if it makes you happier."

Now Malfoy looked panicked. "I didn't say that! I didn't say anything like that! Don't do that! I'm just—it's just—it wasn't supposed to happen like this!" he ranted, clearly distraught. "He was just supposed to _distract _Voldemort so I could kill him! He wasn't supposed to _die_."

Severus glared, his eyes darkening, though he wasn't aware of it. His body, too, began to change, although he was too distracted to care. "You never managed to call him Voldemort when he was alive. Now he's not even cold, and you act like it's nothing. You're pathetic. You're a _coward_," he snarled, holding his wand aloft. "And it's your fault Harry's dead. You'll pay for it, you mark my words."

Lucius looked appalled, shaking his head wildly. "Calm down! Please! It's not what you think!" As he spoke, Severus noticed his hair was receding, shrinking back toward his scalp and darkening. It was the strangest thing.

"What…?"

Green eyes peered near-sightedly at him, a bit lost-looking without their glasses. "We switched. We couldn't tell you. I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to—it wasn't supposed to happen like this," Harry told him. "I just needed to take him by surprise—that's why we did it. That's why we decided on a gun. Because he'd never expect it. He'd never believe a Muggle device could kill him. But I…I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry. I love you, Severus."

"You—you do?" Severus blinked, taken aback. He stared at his young lover, lithe and lovely and wonderfully alive, and then looked down to find a dead Lucius Malfoy, still wrapped tenderly in his arms.


	27. I Guess I’m Just the Snarrying Kind

**TITLE**: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Epilogue  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, and a nod to Mrs. Simkin's Bathtub, which is an excellent and terribly amusing read that I encourage you to look around for.  
**BETA**: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and help from the fabulous Djin7, and all further mistakes are mine.  
**SUMMARY**: The aftermath, in which there is celebration and silliness—and yes, smex. But hopefully tastefully done smex.

**And with this chapter, **The Obligatory Sequel is complete! I present here a link to all chappies for your edification and enjoyment. This is also the end of StarryGazer. I will probably not be posting further stories under this name, so I offer my sincere appreciation to those of you who've enjoyed my stuff and bid you adieu. Oh, and feel free to drop me an email address, if you'd like to keep in touch/read future stories under other names.

**I Guess I'm Just the Snarrying Kind**

"Thanks to the bravery and a wonderful display of inter-House unity between a former alumnus, a staff member, and our own Harry Potter, today we begin a new era in wizarding history. None of us present tonight will ever forget the death of Voldemort, and I sincerely hope we can take from it a few lessons—cooperation, conviction, and camaraderie may overcome even the strongest man, if that man stands alone. Hatred, persecution and fear bring nothing worthwhile to those who live in thrall to them. Remember this and rejoice: the Dark Lord is dead!"

After the clapping died down, Dumbledore raised his cup in salute. It was two weeks since the fall of Voldemort, and he was recovering nicely without the dark cloud hanging over his head. "To the cunning and courage of Severus Snape," he said. The Great Hall cheered. "To the sacrifice and selflessness of Lucius Malfoy." The Hall fell respectfully silent, bowing its head a moment. "And to everything that is Harry Potter!" The room roared in appreciation, stomping feet and banging glasses on the tables.

Harry, bright red, tried to duck, but Snape's hand snaked out and held him in place. "No, Mister Potter. If I have to deal with it, _you _have to deal with it," he said, a waxy smile frozen on his face.

Harry gave a slight sigh, knowing the man was masking a certain amount of pain. "Look, I keep telling you; _everyone _makes mistakes. It's not your fault Malfoy's dead."

"It is," Severus insisted. "I've never botched a potion up so badly. To compound the guilt, I was absolutely convinced he'd betray us in the end."

"Yes, well, I thought he'd do a runner or something, too, but I guess he was a good egg in the end," Harry said helplessly.

As Dumbledore finished his speech, the Minister of Magic rose took the stand. "I declare this day to be a wizarding holiday, our very own Independence Day!" There was thunderous applause, especially from the students—any day that meant no classes was something to be heartily supported.

"It could have been you," Severus whispered, staring at the table.

"Stop it! It wasn't, so just _stop_!" Harry retorted, frustrated. He wondered what he could do to take Severus' mind off things.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and distracted the room from the heroes' argument by taking to the podium again. "I also wished to tell you that, due to the celebrations planned, the recent upheaval, and the distraction it has been for students and teachers alike, this year's tests will be cancelled." Everyone cheered except for Hermione, who seemed upset all her studying would be for nothing. Ron slipped an arm around her to comfort her, and they smiled at each other, suddenly in their own little world.

Harry leaned over to Snape, speaking from the corner of his mouth. "The headmaster already passed me."

"Pardon?"

"He said he had the power to do it, and he didn't want me having to face the stress of tests on top of everything else. He made me do some demonstrations for him, but he did up my diploma himself. Everyone else will have to make up the tests in the beginning of the fall," he added smugly.

"Is that so?" Snape thought this over, then turned and gave the boy a long, appraising look. Harry blushed twelve shades of red.

"Severus…" Remus' voice interrupted from their left. Severus' head swivelled. "I just wanted to say you did a wonderful job. And—and thank you, for watching over Harry."

"You're welcome," Snape grunted. He made a gesture, and a house elf hurried to his side. "Bring me the goblet that's sitting on my desk." The elf popped away and promptly returned bearing a steaming cup. "This," he informed Lupin, "is for you. Your Wolfsbane Potion. I've made a few adjustments, so you might notice a different taste or some minor side effects. Keep track of them, but don't bother me about them unless they're life-threatening."

Remus stared at the potion.

"Well, _go _on. I didn't poison it, if that's what you're worried about. I do have a vial on me, but I'd hardly waste it on _you_."

The werewolf smiled. "It isn't that. It's just—I'm surprised. And touched, Severus. I'm really very touched."

"In the head," the Potions Master grumbled.

Remus gulped the whole thing down, licking his lips afterward. "It's…quite good. A marked improvement."

"Yes. I hope it didn't destroy the formula's beneficial properties. If you dropped dead now, I'd have to consider it a failure…that, or a raging success. Hard to decide, really."

Minerva was giving the two professors a disgustingly soppy look. "It _is _good to see the two of you getting on so well," she said.

Severus rolled his eyes. "The only Gryffindor I'm interested in _getting on_ with is Potter, and I trust I don't have to draw you a picture," he said tartly. To his disgust, the woman chuckled. "Stop bothering me and go quaff your punch, would you?" he grumbled.

A short while later, Albus and Minerva were dancing, and Remus was falling asleep in the soup. Everyone seemed occupied, and no one was looking at the heroes. "Time to make our exit," Severus whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry was out of his seat like a shot.

"Discretion, brat," Severus cautioned, sliding an arm around the boy and shielding him a bit from prying eyes. "Now is not the time to call attention to yourself, though I know it goes against your Gryffindor nature not to beat your chest and swing from the chandeliers."

"Um…what if Remus comes after us?" Harry whispered nervously as they slipped from the room, nearly running down the hall, hand in hand.

"He won't," Severus promised with a hint of suppressed glee. "The adjustment I made to his Wolfsbane Potion contained a powerful sedative. He probably won't wake up for ten to fifteen hours."

"_Severus_," Harry scolded, laughing. "That's _awful_. You shouldn't do things like that! Did you slip something to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, too?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Harry laughed harder. "Is _that _why they were slow dancing?"

"I didn't _force_ them to _dance. _I just made them more amenable to the suggestion." They rounded the corner and Severus yanked open his chamber door. "Inside," he ordered.

Harry shuddered at the tone, his eyes falling closed. "I love it when your voice gets all rough like that," he whispered. Snape shut the door behind them, sweeping Harry into his arms and kissing him hard.

"I love you," the man mumbled, Harry's breath sweet and warm against his lips.

Harry broke away and grinned crookedly. "You used to have such a difficult time saying that. Getting used to it, are we?"

"I don't think I ever could." Severus moved from Harry's mouth to his neck, leaving a series of love-bites there.

"Did you—did you and Lucius ever—?" Harry asked worriedly.

Severus pulled away and gave him a small smile. "No. It never would have worked. We're both Slytherins, and _one _of us would have had to trust the other enough to bottom."

"Oh…good." Harry looked relieved, but still a little awkward. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, or where to put his hands. "Are you—are we really—?"

"If you want it," Severus told him gently.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I was just worried you'd make me wait until the school year officially ended or something."

Severus nipped his ear. "I think," the man told him, "that you are about as legal as you're ever going to get. Now shut up and let me ravish you." Gentle hands tickled the back of Harry's neck.

"Oh…_oh!_ Wow. Yes, sir," Harry breathed in the man's ear.

They didn't make it as far as the bedroom.

Snape did manage to keep them moving, tangled and stumbling though they were, until they reached the den. There he gave up and waved his wand, his chair crouching low, stretching and becoming something good enough to be going on with—or good enough to be _getting _it on with, at any rate.

Harry perched on the edge, his hands folding and unfolding in his lap. He gave Severus a shy smile. "Um, aren't you going to sit down, too?" he patted the area beside him.

Snape took a long moment to memorize Harry—coltish, awkward, and radiant with ingenuous eagerness. His hair was as messy as ever, and his eyes seemed wider than usual—whether in fear or the thrill of anticipation, Snape couldn't tell. He pushed the boy back, and Harry ended up sprawled and squirming, his limbs splayed languorously, his eyes glassy and feverish, whimpering with pleasure as Severus undid buttons, his lips chasing the movements of his fingers. Harry flushed when the man exposed him, suddenly shy and trying to cover himself.

"Don't," Severus implored, catching his hands. "You really needn't. You're beautiful."

Harry's eyes softened, and he smiled tentatively. "I want to undress you, too," he insisted. He reached up to the man's collar, breath hitching as the first button came loose. "I swear, I'm going to remember that for the rest of my life," he said in a hushed voice. "I wanted to do that for ages."

Severus smiled patiently, allowing Harry to have his way, stroking and petting the boy as he went. Harry didn't get halfway down the man's robes before his mewls became whines of impatience, and he kept pressing himself into Severus' hand. "I—_want_—you," the boy panted, sending a thrill down Severus' spine.

"Down, then," Severus told him. "Just lie back and enjoy it, and I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."

For nearly the first time Severus could remember, Harry did as he was told, sweetly and compliantly, his eyes shining with trust. He let Severus' hands wander all over him, caressing and penetrating, smoothing away the tension and pain. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely.

Harry brought Severus' fingertips to his lips, nipping, sucking and kissing them. "I've loved you for so long that I _ache_ with it," Harry said in a hushed voice. Severus' index finger slipped between his soft lips, into that wet, heated cavern, and Harry hummed contentedly around it.

Severus swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to control his racing heart. He did not want to rush this—and he didn't want to hurt Harry. "I love you, too. You make me feel—you—make me—feel like all the decisions I've made…were the right ones. You make me feel _blessed _to be myself. I doubt you can appreciate the wonder of that," he added.

A twist of hips, and Harry's hand tightened on Snape's arm. "I—think I can appreciate a _lot _of wonder right now," Harry responded, his eyes unfocussed.

"You're all right?"

He nodded, trembling from the tips of his hair to the tips of his toes. "It feels…full," he whispered. "But—but not bad. Different."

Snape began to move slowly, eyes intent on that delicately grimacing face, trying to be gentle. He'd never had to worry about that sort of thing before. It was both empowering and terrifying—Harry was lovely, smooth, almost unscarred. The skin of his stomach was unblemished and pale, like bone china, but warm and soft to the touch. Snape desperately didn't want to break his young lover, to make him weep or bleed.

He shifted, lifting one of Harry's ankles into the air and caressing it. When he leaned forward to kiss Harry, there was a gasp. Those brilliant eyes, usually so clear, had gone glassy and dark. "Ah. Now that would be your prostate," Snape informed him. "It…er, is supposed to give a pleasurable sens—" he cut off, both at the look on Harry's face and his own more physical enjoyment, and had to try again. "Pl—pleasurable—sensation when—oh, bloody hell. You know what I mean," he finally panted.

"I really, really like my prostate," Harry replied in a strangled voice. "That's, like, more exhilarating than _anything. _Do that again," he pleaded.

Severus did, savouring the rosy rapture on Harry's upturned face, his lower lip caught between his teeth. "Your body is a furnace…in which sinners may be reborn," the man rasped.

Harry merely groaned softly, wrapping his legs around the man. He couldn't speak. He pulled Severus down, winding his arms around sweating shoulders, grunting, "This—everything—_perfect_."

It _was _perfect. It was two bodies, lovingly twined, a gentle rocking, soft cries and warm kisses. It _was _perfect.

It was magical.

OoOoOoOoO

Afterward, Snape carried the boy to bed, risking a thrown back. Harry was pliant and content, drowsing quietly in his arms. "Let's get married," he murmured.

Severus nearly fell over from shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, what else am I going to do with the rest of my life? I don't want a job. I'm sick of trying to be everybody's everything. I just want to be your—your _husband._ I want to be a househusband, is what I want."

Severus tenderly set him on the bed, pulling the blankets up and wrapping them around the youth. "You wouldn't last as a househusband," he said fondly. "Cleaning and cooking would _fast_ become dull, and then you'd get into mischief, as you always do. Before two weeks had passed, I'd come home to find you sprawled on the kitchen table doing unmentionable things to yourself with a carrot or something of that nature."

"Is it _always _about my libido?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

Harry huffed. "I still want to get married," he mumbled sleepily. "You've got to make an honest man out of me."

Severus swallowed hard. "Yes, and we all know what an authority I am on _that. _We'll just see how you feel about things in the morning," he whispered. Harry didn't answer. He was fast asleep.

OoOoOoOoO

The next morning, they woke up in Paris. They were still in Hogwarts, but Hogwarts seemed to have taken a vacation in the middle of the night.

While Harry was still asleep, Snape looked out the window, let out a holler, and ran to the Great Hall. "What the devil's going on?" he demanded of the headmaster.

The illustrious wizard shrugged in bemusement. "I haven't the foggiest. I'm afraid it's just one of those things."

"Well—well—can you make it go _back_?"

The headmaster shook his head with mock sadness. "I fear not. The castle has developed an agenda of its own, and it seems to want to take a brisk hop around the continent. I think it rather needed a holiday. I got up to use the loo round two in the morning and found us outside Berlin. I know you're upset, my dear boy, but I don't suppose it will stay here very long. Once a school has started to roam, it never knows _when _to stop."

Severus blinked. "Thank you for your words of encouragement."

The man beamed. "Think nothing of it! So glad to be of help!"

"Ginny! Ron! Where is everyone?" Molly Weasley struggled through the Floo, looking distraught. She spotted the headmaster and hurried over. "Albus! There are reports that Hogwarts went _missing_, but when I tried the Floo, it took me straight here. Are the children safe?"

"Of course, Molly," Albus placated. "Right as rain."

Harry came running in half-dressed. "There you are!" he exclaimed at seeing Snape. "Did you know the Eiffel Tower is outside your bedroom window? I thought I was losing my mind. What are you doing out of bed, anyway?"

"What are _you _doing looking out of Severus' bedroom window?" Molly Weasley demanded.

"Molly, I have bad news," Dumbledore interjected. "I feel I should tell you in private. You see, it's about Ginny…My office, if you would?"

Harry grabbed the man's arm, pulling him aside for a moment. "What…um—what will happen to Ginny?" he asked in an undertone.

Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic smile. "What will happen to any of us? She made a very unwise decision."

"Yeah, but she's still just a kid, and—she's—she's sort of in love with me. Love makes you do crazy—even stupid—things sometimes," he said wisely. "I can say that from experience."

The Headmaster nodded. "We shall just have to see, won't we? I admit that her actions may cause some difficulties in her family." Harry paled. "_But, _I think perhaps, with your good character reference, she may overcome. And I think we'll let Molly decide how the girl should be punished. I don't see the need to bring the Ministry into it, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "Thank you. She's—got some problems, but she's like my own sister. Weird as _that _sounds. And hey, maybe now Mrs. Weasley will stop trying to sic her on me," he said flippantly, but he had a difficult time forcing himself to smile. The Weasley family was in for some rough waters, and he couldn't help but feel responsible.

"Your compassion does you credit," the headmaster told him solemnly. "I'm very proud of you." Harry managed a real smile then, as Dumbledore led Molly away.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus felt deeply grateful. Let her worry about her _own _brats, for a while, so Severus could sort his out.

"Where were you? I woke up and you were just—_gone,_" Harry said, agitated. "Oh, God, don't tell me everyone was _right_—that that really _was _all you wanted from me! If you think that you can just boff me and walk away like it meant _nothing—_" Harry's voice was hoarse with anger and unshed tears, his hands balled at his sides.

"Look—don't—" Severus got out. "It's nothing like _that, _you temperamental twit. Don't have a nervous breakdown on me. I'll—do whatever need be done. I'll _marry_ you if I must, all right? _Please_ shut off the histrionics," he pleaded. "You'll be producing snot next, and it's all downhill from there."

Harry managed a watery smile. "You'd really marry me?"

"Marriage—some sort of commitment ceremony—bonding ritual involving public sex—whatever. Just stop weeping like a misbegotten Camille!"

Harry threw his arms around the man. "And everyone will be there, right? And we'll go on a nice honeymoon afterward? And—I'll have everything. You, the world, _everything._"

"Honeymoon? Good Christ, Potter; you're in a castle that is currently spending the summer leaping all over Europe. This is not _enough_ for you?"

"Oh. You're _right_!" Severus saw Harry smile slowly, and groaned inwardly. "Where are we now? Paris, right? Let's go! I want to see the Mona Lisa and that Arc thing of Napoleon's and the Eiffel Tower and—"

"Or we could just stay inside," Severus interrupted hastily. "And have mind-blowing sex. All the time."

"For the whole summer?" Harry replied incredulously. "Anyhow, I'm sure we'll find time for that, too."

Severus had sudden visions of being dragged over every square inch of the Continent, forced into joining sweaty groups of Muggles, wandering about and being made to endure long lectures about what supposedly historical thing took place at any given location. Severus Snape now had a new synonym for 'torture,' and it was 'tourism.'

"And d'you have a camera? Maybe I could borrow Colin's. I want to get lots of pictures of us. I have—_we _have—a lot of unhappy memories. I think it's time we started making nicer ones, don't you?"

Severus looked at Harry's hopeful smile, ran a fingertip over Harry's lower lip. "All right," he murmured. "Perhaps being able to capture that and enjoy it anytime I wanted would be worth a bit of torture."

Harry looked confused for a moment, then grinned broadly. "See, that's pretty much my excuse for being with you."

Snape thwapped him upside the head. "Precocious bugger," he growled.

Harry's smile only stretched wider, like the future unfurling. "Greasy bastard," he retorted. "You know you love me. And you're stuck with me. Forever."

Severus bent his head, pressing a kiss to the lips that could form such a glorious smile. He took Harry's hand, ready for Paris. "Let's get started, then."

Harry laughed, looking down at his rumpled clothing and then at Snape's. "Shouldn't we change first?"

Severus waved his wand, and they were both suddenly immaculate. "Better? Now hurry up." He smiled, feeling almost giddy. "We've only got forever, and I don't want to waste a moment of it."


End file.
